


The Fool

by Aetherschreiber



Series: Aetherschreiber's Star Wars Head-Cannon [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Brotp, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Kallus needs a hug, Rescue Missions, What about his bo-rifle?, Zeb could use a hug too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherschreiber/pseuds/Aetherschreiber
Summary: Kallus is newly accepted into the Rebellion at last. But there's no time for emotional hurts. When a mysterious transmission that seems to originate from the dead world of Lasan is picked up by the Rebellion, Kallus and Zeb must risk returning to the planet in order to save some long-lost Lasat survivors. But is it a trap? And did Kallus' desperate flight from Thrawn have a cost they didn't consider?





	1. Prologue

Grand Admiral Thrawn stood in the center of the stark, spartan quarters in the Imperial base in Center City that had once belonged to Agent Alexsandr Kallus. For a man who had had such a storied career in the ISB, a man who had known and seen as much as he had, Kallus didn't leave much in his wake. In fact, among the spare uniforms, the reports and files, and the other items of regulation Imperial issue for an ISB agent, there were only two objects of any particular interest.

The first was a yellow stone, some sort of meteorite it seemed. It sat on the ledge just over the room's bunk, softly glowing. It gave off a faint warmth and Thrawn guessed that it had once been brighter and warmer. It was placed right where it would have been the last thing that Kallus had looked at before going to sleep and the first thing he had seen when he woke up. It was almost as if it was put there to remind Kallus of something, as if it had been set to look down upon the sleeping man in judgement. But aside from its placement and the soft glow, there didn't seem to be anything remarkable about it.

The second object was far more complex and interesting. Sitting reverently on a stand, perched atop a shelf on the wall, sat the ancient Lasat weapon known as the bo-rifle. Kallus' skill with the weapon had been well-known for some time. He had been the only Human known to use one and he did so almost exclusively. Over the years, the man had shunned more conventional weapons usually used by members of the ISB in favor of the big, clunky, yet somehow elegant weapon that was designed for a being much larger than a Human. Kallus had been just as good with the weapon as any Lasat of the High Honor Guard that might have been the blade's original owner.

Thrawn considered the weapon for a long moment; the way Kallus had treated it, used it, made it a part of himself. This was no mere trophy of a bygone glory. This was a symbol of a moment that had shaped the man. It was a story that Thrawn had thought he knew, from reading Kallus' file. But now, in hindsight, and combined with the research he had done on Lasat culture as an offshoot of investigating the rebels, he began to see a different story wrapped up in the bo-rifle.

Behind him, Thrawn heard the door to the room open and close again. The rhythm of the footsteps gave away their owner without his needing to turn to see who had entered.

"Governor Pryce," Thrawn said, evenly, almost coldly, "what do you know of the Lasat custom known as the  _Boosan Keeraw_?"

"I've never heard of it, actually," she replied, coming to a halt at his side, "why?"

"It's time to revisit the topic, I think," Thrawn mused, "have these quarters gone over with the utmost attention to every detail and have the contents delivered to my office aboard the  _Chimaera_. I don't believe that I am quite finished with Kallus, just yet."

Thrawn didn't bother to look for Pryce's reaction as he smartly turned and exited the room. The business of the Empire continued. So one ground-down cog had decided to spring loose of his place in the machine. It mattered little, so long as the Empire went on.

But a little bit of revenge wouldn't halt the business of the Empire, either.


	2. Chapter One

_"The fool denies his destiny." - Chava the Wise._

* * *

There weren't very many places in the base on Yavin 4 where Kallus could be alone. Part of that, he knew, was due to the practicalities of the place being a military base; or at least what passed for one in the Rebel Alliance. The place was busy, hectic, and most of all crowded. He had to admit that using existing ruins to hide the base was pretty clever. But it didn't leave much in the way of possible facilities.

But he also knew the bigger reason he was never allowed to be alone for too long was a much more sobering truth. Until only recently, just a week ago by the reckoning of most of the rebels, he had been their enemy. Most of them knew him better as a man willing to bring death to whole planets, not an undercover operative feeding the Alliance information. No, they were watching him, obviously suspicious that he might still be playing some sort of long game. And that was reasonable. After all, he had been working for the Empire under a man known for such machinations.

So, having a moment to be alone with his thoughts was a luxury Kallus had come to treasure since arriving at Yavin with the crew of the  _Ghost_. And luckily, the stone ledge of one of the massive pyramids that gave the base its shelter, was one such place where he could go. The Rebels must have decided that there wasn't much trouble he could get into with only rock and moss within his reach. And they were beginning to allow him the luxury of solitude more and more.

And right now, Kallus really just wanted to be left alone, lest something ugly happen that might ruin that newfound trust.

A twinge of pain in his jaw as his teeth clenched reminded Kallus of the dust-up he had had with some Rebel only an hour or so ago on the tarmac. He hadn't recognized the man, but the rebel had certainly recognized him. There had been some shouting and Kallus had done his best to placate the guy, but a crowd had quickly formed to encourage the confrontation. There hadn't been a lot that Kallus had been able to say to the accusations of being a criminal and a murderer, complicit in the deaths of thousands, of course. Before he had known it, there was a rather large fist flying at his face amid a chanting circle of rebels calling for justice to be meted out.

Every instinct that Kallus had had was to fight back, put the guy on the ground by any means necessary. But that was the old Kallus. He was not that man any more. It was only through a sheer force of will that he had held back, never striking out, only defending himself. The man's opinion of him was justified, after all, and it wouldn't help anything to show himself for the violent enemy he had been. The tactic had cost him, though. The fight, such as it was, had gone on for several minutes before it was broken up by Captain Syndulla. He could feel a number of bruises making themselves known on his rib-cage and around his shoulders. But none of those were nearly as bad as the one left from that first blow.

With a sigh, he rubbed his sore jaw, trying to work out some of the discomfort. When he found that it only made it worse, he abandoned the effort in favor of staring out over the landscape at the sunset, listening to the wind in the trees and cries of far-off birds.

Kallus wasn't a man particularly prone to feeling sorry for himself. All his life, he had made his own decisions. It was reasonable for anyone to do so based on their experiences and what they knew at any given moment. He had been used by the Empire and there was little shame in that. The same thing had happened and was still happening to many others. Once he had learned the truth, he had made a choice again, the correct one, to do something about it. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Absolutely nothing.

"Yeah, right," he muttered to himself with a sarcastic huff.

He was shaken out of his reverie by the sound of footsteps behind him, coming out onto the ledge through the open door of the ruin. He didn't bother to turn around to see who it was. There weren't very many people it would be. The soft, measured footsteps only confirmed it. The footsteps stopped right behind him and a moment later a green hand holding a cooling pack lowered into his view.

"Here, I thought you might need this," Hera said as he looked up at her in confusion.

After a moment's hesitation, during which he could clearly tell that she wasn't going to take no for an answer, he took the cooling pack and muttered a thank you, wincing when his split lip moved. Gingerly, he pressed the pack to the aching portion of his face.

"I was hoping to talk to you for a minute," Hera continued on, settling down to sit next to him on the ledge, legs dangling over the wall.

He was tired. He wanted to tell her no; to bugger off and leave him the kriff alone. But she was effectively his superior now, for what that was worth. So Kallus gathered himself up, sitting up a little straighter and holding the cooling pack in his lap.

"Of course, Captain," he said.

"No, not like that," Hera replied, reaching out to push his hand and the cooling pack back into place on his injury, "sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound like that. It's an invitation, not an order."

"Oh," Kallus managed, a little mystified, "of... of course." Somehow his spine still didn't manage to un-stiffen.

Hera gave a resigned-sounding sigh, but plunged forward nonetheless. "I went over the tarmac surveillance footage with Mon Mothma," he said, "we thought it prudent to make certain we got the real story. We saw what happened with Voorhee. We know he started it. The Senator is reading him the riot act right now and he'll probably have latrine and sanitation duty on the base for the next month."

"Aren't the refreshers just a set of-?"

"Yup," Hera interrupted with a modest laugh, as if wanting to avoid the description altogether, "Voorhee will think twice before getting into another fight with anyone. But I wanted to thank you for your restraint."

"Restraint?" Kallus said with surprise, once again dropping the cooling pack into his lap. "I engaged in fistacuffs with a bully. I would hardly call that restraint."

Hera rolled her eyes and gave him a skeptical glare. "Please," she said, "I've seen you fight. We both know you could have put him in Medical, if you had wanted to. But he came away without a scratch." She reached out and once again pushed the cooling pack back up to his face. "You, on the other hand."

Kallus gave another small wince at the touch of the pack. "This is nothing," he said with some sarcasm, desperately attempting to keep the conversation from going where he figured it was going to go, "I've had much worse. Not that long ago, even. I think I'll manage to survive."

"That's not the point," Hera replied, "you didn't throw a single punch. And I know you're still not at a hundred percent after what Thrawn did to you on Lothal. Just taking hits like that isn't too bright. Your rib could have been re-broken." She paused for a moment, but continued again when he looked away, not giving a response. "Look, I'm just concerned, that's all. You seemed okay with all of this a week ago. But the last couple days you've seemed a little different."

"Please," Kallus said with a roll of his eyes, "don't tell me I seem down, or blue, or depressed."

"All right, I won't," said Hera, "but it sort of looks like those might apply."

"Captain Syndulla-"

"Hera," she corrected, cutting him off.

Kallus bit back a reluctant clearing of his throat. "Hera," he ammended, "if you're worried that I'm having second thoughts, you don't need to be. I made my choice and I stand by it."

"Believe me, I'd understand if you were," she replied, "you certainly didn't choose the easy path."

"Easier than the alternative of not being able to live with myself," he responded, sounding a little more bitter than he would have liked, "no decent being could after they had learned what I learned. No, I didn't make the easy choice. I made the  _only_  choice. The only one worthy of my integrity, anyway."

"I didn't mean to question your integrity, either. I just wanted to make sure that you know... we understand this isn't an easy change for you. You risked your life and gave up everything to help us."

"If you're looking to have me weep on someone's shoulder-"

"No," Hera cut him off, holding up her hands to halt him, "we may not know each other all that personally, but I wouldn't expect to see that in a million years, even if we did. I just want to let you know, you don't need to take all this on by yourself. You have people on your side. And no one expects you to turn this into any kind of pennance or anything."

Kallus couldn't help but turn his gaze back to the horizon again, somewhat petulantly. The conversation was going pretty much exactly as he figured it would. He certainly did not want to be having it.

Hera finally seemed to pick up on the vibe. Letting out a breath, she got up from where she was sitting. "Just... Kallus... if you need to... I dunno, process anything or even if you just want some company... you can always come to-"

"Yes, thank you," he said, cutting her off once again, "I understand."

Hera hesitated for a moment, looking at him as if to study his demeanor. Finally, she seemed to find nothing more that needed to be said and turned to leave.

He was filled with regret almost instantly. Hera had come up to talk to him trying to be a friend. He really wasn't at all practiced at that sort of thing. It had been a long time since he had had any friends to speak of. Hera deserved to have a line thrown to her.

"Alexsandr," he said just before she left.

"Who?" she asked, turning back to him in confusion.

"My given name," he elaborated, "it's Alexsandr." He looked away again before he could see her reaction. "I wasn't sure if you knew."

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence as Hera apparently mulled over that information. Finally, he heard a soft snort with which he associated a lop-sided half-smile. "Got it," she said. And then he heard her footsteps on the gravel once more as she left the way she had arrived. He was alone again, in the quiet of the evening.

It was almost too quiet, now.

* * *

Zeb felt like he had been hit over the head with a length of conduit. Standing in the rebel base's briefing room, staring agape at the holoprojection of a stellar map, he just couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was several moments before he realized that his mouth was literally hanging open. Mon Mothma and Dodanna were patiently waiting for him to process their news, but the look on the former's face was beginning to wear thin. He snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat.

"It's not possible," he said dismissively, "it's gotta be a fake."

"That's why we asked you here," Mon Mothma said, "for a second opinion."

"We've run the calculations several times," Dodanna explained, "there's only one planet along the transmission's trajectory where any beings might be able to survive on the surface and send a coded transmission."

"Lasan," Zeb said, leaning on the side of the projector table, staring more intently at the holomap, "well, it does look like it's using one of the old encryption codes from the Honor Guard. But I can't imagine that's all that much of a secret any more. Poke around the ruins long enough, anyone could find that out."

"Yes," Mon Mothma agreed solemnly, "but the content of the message would seem to raise the stakes, considerably." Tapping a few controls on the edge of the projector, she changed the image of the hologram. It shifted from the star map they had been studying to a block of text written out in aure-besh. Zeb's eyes began to scan over it as she continued. "They claim to be reaching out from a hidden conclave of Lasat, dwelling beneath the surface of the planet near the ruins of the capitol city. They have managed to remain undiscovered all this time."

"Until now," Dodanna cut in, "Thrawn has sent a legion there, investigating the ruins for some reason. Evidently, they stumbled upon the Lasat."

"The Empire doesn't have the location of the conclave yet," Mon Mothma said, "but they are closing in."

"It's got to be some kind of a trick," Zeb insisted, crossing his arms over his chest, "every Lasat that survived the massacre was evacuated. If anyone had been left behind, they'd surely be dead by now. Thrawn's playing his games again."

Mon Mothma and Dodanna exchanged a hesitant look before the former looked down at the control panel and tapped another control.

 _"The Empire is closing in on us!"_  a frantic female voice sounded, distorted through static and interference.  _"We need help! Please, by the Ashla! Help us! Fulcrum! Fulcrum! Are you there!? By the light of Lothal-"_

With a tremendous squeal, the recording broke off. Mon Mothma looked back up to Zeb, seeming to gauge his reaction. Dodanna, too, was looking at Zeb with stoic concern. Only the hum and beep of the equipment in the briefing room broke the silence. Zeb leaned against the edge of the projector again, still pondering the block of text hovering in the air.

"I understand your misgivings," said Mon Mothma, "but we felt it was only right that you be made aware of this. They are, after all, your people. We don't have the resources for a full investigation into this, but-"

"Yeah," said Zeb, pushing away from the projector again, "I got ya. You can leave it to me. But I am gonna need just a little bit of help on this."

"I assume you mean our very own Fulcrum agent?" Dodanna asked. "Are you certain that is such a good idea? Kallus is still on probationary duty, after all."

Zeb drew himself up and gave an emphatic shake of his head. "As far as I'm concerned, he's not," he said, "that ended for me when Thrawn gave him a concussion and a broken rib. Besides, he's the only one we have who can verify if these people should know about Fulcrum."

Mon Mothma gave a thoughtful nod. "Thawn  _did_  know Kallus' pass-phrase," she said, "this could still be an elaborate hoax."

"Exactly," Zeb agreed, "so he's on this with me." He turned to leave the briefing room.

"I must say, I am surprised by your trust in him," Dodanna said, bringing him to a halt for a moment, "of all people, I'd have assumed you'd be the last to trust him, with his history."

"We had that out already. That's over and done for us," said Zeb, resuming his path out the door.

"We can only hope that is so," he heard Mon Mothma mutter as he left.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time Zeb found Kallus. He had been searching for most of the afternoon without success. For a guy that everyone was still keeping an eye on, he was quite adept at disappearing when he wanted to. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He had finally resorted to pestering Hera to see if she knew where he was. She had suggested checking the stone outcroppings on the upper levels of the base, but that had also proved fruitless.

Various other people around the base had seen Kallus at several intervals throughout the day, but no one seemed to know where he was at that moment. Finally, Zeb threw up his hands and decided to simply wait. There was one specific time and place where he knew Kallus would be. And so, near sunset, Zeb posted himself on the tarmack, sitting atop of stack of crates.

Sure enough, it was only a couple of minutes before the former ISB agent rounded the corner of the base and came into view. He was jogging at a fair clip, with a disciplined and practiced gait. He took a run every evening around this time, as if out of habit. Given the clockwork nature of the ritual, Zeb guessed that it probably was. It was just one more way that Kallus didn't quite fit in with the rest of the rebels at Yavin.

The problem with a rebellion was that it tended to attract... well... rebels, to be frank. Zeb had spent no small amount of time growling at unruly recruits since joining up with Phoenix Squadron. Most of them he was able to put back in line with a glare. The growl probably helped, too.

But Kallus was entirely different. He was orderly, disciplined, a creature of habit. Command structure came seemingly naturally to him and that was no surprise given his extensive time in the Imperial military. Zeb didn't like the term brainwashing, when it came to Kallus. After all, the man had seen fit to rebel enough to learn the truth of the Empire's ways. But there were clearly some parts of the Empire that just couldn't be removed entirely.

In this case, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Zeb welcomed a little bit of help in whipping the more rebellious recruits into shape.

Hopping down from the crates on which he was seated, Zeb waited for Kallus to pass and then jogged to catch up with him. For a moment, Kallus seemed to be surprised by his presence and looked askance at him. Zeb merely grinned and then picked up speed. He was rewarded by hearing Kallus mutter something under his breath and then increase the pace of his own footfalls to pull even once again. And then Kallus was passing him.

Oh, no. There was no way Zeb was going to be shown up. He increased his pace again. Soon, they were running neck-and neck, careening around the stone corners of the base. Within minutes, they finished the circuit and came to a breathless halt at the place where Zeb had originally joined Kallus. They both pitched forward for a moment, breathing heavily to gain their wind back, both grinning at each other, wordlessly, chuckling as they were able.

"So," Zeb ventured as soon as he was certain they both had regained enough breath to have a coherent conversation, "Hera says you're pouting."

The look on Kallus' face dissolved into puzzlement almost instantly. "What?" he asked.

"You know, pouting," Zeb replied, "moping around, feeling sorry for yourself, acting like a petulant child."

"Oh, for stars' sake, not you too," Kallus snapped back sourly, "I am not pouting."

"Well, whatever you wanna call it," Zeb said with a shrug, "wanna talk about it?"

Kallus gave a weary groan and looked skyward, tossing his hands up. "What is it with you people and your... group hugs?" he said. "For the last time, there isn't anything to talk about. I'm fine."

"Sure, if that's what you call puttering around like everyone hates you."

"Everyone  _does_  hate me," Kallus replied, "and that isn't a whine, it is a statement of fact." He began to moved past Zeb, making to depart.

Zeb gave a growl in frustration. "And I suppose Hera and me don't count, then," he said, "just like an Imp to get the facts wrong"

Kallus stopped dead in his tracks, his spine stiffening. He turned back to Zeb with a glare. "I should lay you out for that comment," he said darkly.

"Yeah?" Zeb asked, incredulously, reaching over his shoulder to retrieve his bo-rifle. With a snap and a shake, he extended it to its staff form, energy crackling at the blades. He pushed it into Kallus' hands, not even waiting to see if he actually took hold of it, leaving the former agent with no choice but to grasp on to it so it didn't fall. "Then do it!"

Kallus' glare deepened.

"Go on!" Zeb snapped, throwing his arms wide. "If you want  _everyone_  to hate you, you'll need to make a start of it! Can't have you being wrong, after all!"

Kallus' grip on the bo-rifle tightened, the knuckles of his fingers going white as he continued to glare at Zeb. For just a moment, the Lasat thought that Kallus might just take him up on the offer. But then his grip loosened and the tension left his shoulders with a sigh. After another contemplative moment, he collapsed the bo-rifle back into its artillery form and held it out for Zeb to take back.

"I had to leave it behind," Kallus said softly as Zeb took the bo-rifle.

"Your bo-rifle," Zeb acknowledged.

Kallus gave a nod. "No doubt Thrawn has it on display among all his precious artifacts and pieces of art, by now," he said with disgust, "at least he'll regard it as more than  _just_  an object."

"He doesn't deserve to keep it," Zeb said with a growl, "he'll never understand the  _Boosahn Keeraw_. He wasn't there. When we take him down, we'll get it back."

Kallus gave a frustrated sigh. "It's not  _just_  the bo-rifle, though, is it?" He said. "I left behind everything. All that I had, all that I  _was_. Everything, just dropped and left by the roadside."

"Well, you were a right bastard," said Zeb wryly, "so, that's not really a bad thing, if you ask me."

"But what has it left behind?" Kallus replied.

"Yeah, know the feeling," said Zeb, resting a big hand on Kallus' shoulder, "I've been there before. What do you say we make a start at finding out? C'mon, I need your help with something."

Kallus gave Zeb a confused look. Even so, the Lasat didn't wait for a reply before turning toward the lowered cargo ramp of the  _Ghost_. "You comin' or not?"

Zeb didn't need to turn back to check whether Kallus was following. He heard eager footsteps coming along behind.

* * *

Kallus was content to let Zeb fly the two-seater A-Wing trainer that Mon Mothma had authorized them to take. For an hours-long hyperspace flight it was cramped and uncomfortable. But it was far from the worst transport that he had ever been subjected to.

Setting the data pad he had been reading in his lap, Kallus took a moment to stare out the canopy at the swirling blue void around them and let his mind wander. He had a great deal to process. For his first mission with the Rebels that wasn't self-assigned, it certainly was a doozy. And far more personal than he would have preferred.

But when Zeb had told him that transmissions claiming to be Lasat survivors on Lasan were being received by Rebel Alliance command, invoking the Fulcrum code name no less, he could not leave it to anyone else. He owed the Lasat people, and Zeb in particular, that much at the very least.

Months ago, when he had first started making his transmissions as Fulcrum, he had actually tried sending a transmission to Lasan. He had contemplated it for days after he had been unable to learn anything new about the Lasan massacre.

No, he corrected himself. Not unable. Unwilling. He hadn't been able to face it. After he had been unable to find any reference to the mass-extinction event that had apparently caused the death of every being on the planet Geonosis, he was more than a little bit afraid to learn just how many times the Empire had been involved in such things. Or, more to the point, how many times he had been involved.

But ever since his conversation with Zeb on Bahryn, Lasan had been a special case that had haunted his thoughts. And so, one night, in that old comm tower on Lothal, his apprehension got the better of him. After he had finished a transmission to Phoenix Squadron and despite the risk, he had acted on impulse and directed another transmission toward Lasan, just to see if anyone was there at all. There had been no response. And for days afterward, he had been kicking himself for the pointless, self-indulgent risk he had taken. But at least he had had an answer.

Now, he was back to uncertainty.

Turning his attention back to his data pad, he called up the recording of the transmission that had been loaded on to it and played it again. He hoped to hear something he hadn't heard before, some sort of tell that would confirm if this was real or not. There were just too many uncertainties. Thrawn had known the Fulcrum code name and his pass phrase. There was a very real possibility that this was an elaborate trap. But the recording once again gave him no answers either way. Going to Lasan to investigate in person was the only option.

"How many times are you gonna listen to that thing?" Zeb grumbled from the front seat. "It isn't like it's gonna change at all."

"I keep hoping that I'll catch something I didn't before," Kallus replied, "this whole thing has me quite uneasy. You do realize this is probably a trap."

"Maybe, maybe not," said Zeb, "the fact that you sent a transmission to Lasan as Fulcrum gives it credibility. If not, I'd have written it off."

"If some of your people are there, what will you do?" Kallus asked.

"Get 'em out," Zeb replied, "take 'em to safety."

"The Rebellion?"

"Nope. Remember that nebula on the outer rim that you chased the  _Ghost_  into last year?"

"The one with the starship-crushing gravity wells?" Kallus exclaimed. "Why would you take them there, of all places? It seems a rather dangerous place to hide."

"Not the nebula itself," Zeb answered, "the planet hiding in it."

"There's a whole  _planet_  living inside that death-trap!?"

"Yup," said Zeb, the smirk clear in his voice though Kallus couldn't see it, "Lira San. Original home planet of my people. There's thousands of them there."

Kallus slumped back in his seat in disbelief, letting his head tilt back on the headrest and scrubbing a hand over his face. "I thought that was just one of your insanely dangerous escape attempts," he said, "how did I miss an entire  _planet_?"

Zeb gave a self-satisfied chuckle. "Hey, if it helps, I was convinced it was a myth right up until we got there."

"I must be going mad," Kallus deadpanned.

"Imagine being me," Zeb said, "a childhood fairy tale suddenly turns out to be real? For days afterward, I walked around like I'd been hit on the head. Come to think of it, that might actually be what going mad is like."

Kallus sputtered for a response, but just couldn't find one. He had known that the Rebels he had hunted for so long were unconventional and maybe a little bit crazy. But in the past week he had begun to learn just how incredibly shallow that assessment had actually been. It really was no wonder he had never caught the  _Ghost_  and her crew.

Oh well. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, as they say.

Several long moments of silence passed in which Kallus sobered. Other thoughts went through his mind, most of them wondering how he was going to cope with this new existence of his. It was somehow larger than his old one. But then, another thought occurred to him.

"On Bahryn," he said, soberly, "you said that you had moved on from Lasan. Going back. It can't be easy."

"Nah, I'll be fine," Zeb said waving it off. He then seemed to reconsider. "Well, maybe not fine, per se. But I'll be all right."

There was another long pause and for a moment, Kallus began to feel some relief that Zeb wasn't asking the obvious follow up. However, that feeling ended abruptly when the Lasat turned to look over his shoulder at the former Agent.

"What about you?" Zeb asked. "You might learn things you don't wanna learn, you know."

Of course. Of course he had to ask it. Kriffing Lasat and his scrogging innate insight. The guy wasn't even aware he  _had_  it.

Kallus let the question hang in the air for a few moments as he shifted his gaze back to the blue swirl of hyperspace outside. He considered his response carefully. It wasn't that he wanted to impress Zeb or anything as shallow as that. He simply needed to be accurate; to properly convey his mixed feelings about returning to Lasan. Finally, he turned back to Zeb and replied.

"I've had enough of hiding in the dark," he said, "it's recently become clear to me that the truth is a precious commodity that should never be taken for granted. Some sleepless nights are a small price to pay. Especially if we have a chance to save some of your people."

"Eyes open, then?"

"Eyes open."

Zeb gave a solemn nod and looked back to the A-Wing's controls. "Just remember, though," he added, "you don't need to make this about you. If it starts to go there, just think about the people we're looking for, yeah?"

The comment had the ring of a practiced performance, as if Zeb had said the same thing to himself a hundred times in the last hour. It was probably good advice. But Kallus figured that he would only be able to follow it about as well as Zeb would.

* * *

"Transformed," Gron had said. What a nice way to put "deforested, dried out, and bombed halfway to oblivion."

Zeb remembered how Lasan used to be, before its fall to the Empire. It was a green and lush world, full of forests that stretched for hundreds of miles. Fertile farmlands wove their ways in along the sunny spots between them. Arboreal creatures, including the Lasat people themselves, teemed among the trees and made their dwellings in the forests. Though most Lasat had had dwellings on the ground, a fair number of their buildings were also built into the trees or in such a way as to mimic trees. Architecture had imitated nature and the two had been side-by-side in harmony for generations.

But now it was dried out, hot during the day and cold at night like a desert. The massive forests were gone, leading to out of control evaporation and greenhouse effects. Most of the animals of the planet were long gone, unable to survive in the environment so drastically changed. The burned forests had long ago blown away on the wind and the ruins of the Lasat cities were crumbled, broken, and silent.

Zeb looked out the A-Wing's canopy at the grey world below them, remembering it how it had been and how it had ended up and why. He remembered the day the green world had ended and the grey one took its place.

But the time for dwelling in the past was gone. They had work to do.

In the seat behind him, he heard Kallus at his own set of controls, running a scan of the system. Their long-range sensors had picked up an Imperial Star Destroyer in orbit and they had decided to come out in the planet's shadow, hoping not to be seen.

"Anything?" Zeb asked, impatiently, keeping his voice low.

"Nothing so far," Kallus replied, "they haven't moved. It seems we may have slipped in unnoticed, surprisingly enough."

"Are you sure?" Zeb breathed again, his voice even lower.

"Yes, I'm sure," Kallus said, somewhat testily, "and you don't need to whisper. Sound does not travel in space. They won't hear you."

Zeb knew this, of course. But there was something about trying not to be seen that triggered an instinctual need for quiet. Zeb cleared his throat and shifted in embarrasment at the absurdity of it.

"Right, well," he said, "what about on the surface? Anything happening?"

Kallus gave a thoughtful hum. "There are a number of Imperial personelle on the surface near the ruin of the capitol," he said, "but other than that, I'm only seeing sparse and scattered flickers of life signs. Oh..." He paused with a tone of dread in his voice. "We have another problem."

"What is it?" Zeb asked, urgently.

"That's not just any Star Destroyer in orbit," Kallus replied, "it's the  _Chimaera_. Evidently, whatever the Empire is doing down there, Thrawn is seeing to it personally."

"Oh,  _karabast_ ," moaned Zeb, "just what we need. That karking blue bastard shows up at the worst times. This is looking more and more like a trap."

"I don't think so," Kallus mused, "if it were, I would think that he would keep his own presence unknown rather than broadcast it. And the transmission the Alliance received did say that the Empire was closing in on your people. There is something down there that Thrawn wants."

Zeb responded with an agreeing hum. "Well, if he wants it, then I want it first."

"Agreed," said Kallus, who then fell ominously silent.

"Hey, you know," Zeb ventured hesitantly, "Thrawn's likely to have it out for you, pretty hard. Are you sure you wanna go through with this? If he gets his hands on you again-"

"I know first hand what Thrawn does to traitors," Kallus interrupted, darkly, "he didn't break me before and he won't ever do so. I'm not afraid of him."

There was something just a little too insistent in Kallus' voice, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.

"Bantha poodoo, you aren't," Zeb muttered under his breath, knowing better than to openly challenge the assertion, "well, you're the expert in the capabilities of Imperial Star Destroyers. How do we get down there without being seen?"

"I'm plotting a course for you to follow," said Kallus, once again working at his controls. Zeb balked when it showed up on his own display.

"Are you space-happy?" he exclaimed, forgetting entirely now any instinct for quiet, "that takes us within a half a click of the  _Chimaera_!"

Kallus gave an impatient sigh. "There is a blind spot in their sensors," he said, " _if_  you keep to the course I've laid out, they will not see us."

Zeb gave a frustrated growl and brought the sub-light engines back up again. "You'd better know what you're doing," he grumbled as he got the A-Wing under way once again.

Kallus' course took them right into the shadow of the  _Chimaera_ , only a half a mile or so from the tip of its wedge. Zeb concentrated solely on the computer readout in front of him, keeping his gaze averted from the imposing sight of the Imperial ship. Stick in a vice-like grip, he did not deviate an inch from the designated path. By the time he felt the first jolt of the atmosphere beneath them, he realized he had been holding his breath. It was an agonizingly long time before Kallus calmly announced that they had descended far enough into the atmosphere to avoid the  _Chimaera_ 's sensors. They would be safe from detection by the Star Destroyer for a while, at least. Carefully keeping the A-Wing at a low altitude, Zeb set a course for the capitol.

If Lasan had looked bleak from orbit, it was downright hellish on the ground. Dust choked the air, blown on the unceasing winds that scoured the surface. Here and there, the desiccated corpses of the last of Lasan's trees stabbed into the air, dark against the distant, sickly horizon, defoliated beyond cure and only standing thanks to some borrowed time not granted others of their kind. The only living vegetation were patches of pathetic, grey scrub that wouldn't have even reached waist height on a Jawa.

And then the ruin of the capitol city came into view. It was like a punch to Zeb's gut. This is where he had been that awful day. One moment he had been a captain in the High Honor Guard of Lasan, in service to the royal family and the people. The next, he was a refugee on a desperately fleeing shuttle, having been dragged there while he was out cold from an explosion.

And that was the worst part. His world had fallen while he had been unconscious. He had not been standing with his brothers and sisters of the Guard.

Behind him, Kallus cleared his throat softly. Zeb could tell he had been caught in memories as well. "We should approach from the east side of the city," he said, "there are troopers only about five miles out to the west. Whatever ground clutter we can keep between them and us will be for the best."

"Right," Zeb agreed, bringing the A-Wing into a turn to adjust their course. It was only a few more minutes before they had touched down, nestled among some of the ruined buildings on the east side of the town. The cloud of dust kicked up by the A-Wing's engines were only a slight increase in the swirling eddies that blew around them.

By the time everything was powered down, Kallus already had a scarf wrapped around his head, goggles at the ready. He handed a mask - more suited to the Lasat's larger frame and ears - to Zeb before they opened the canopy and climbed out.

"Well, at least the dust will give it some camouflage before too long," Zeb groused, raising his voice over the sound of the wind and closing the canopy again.

"Indeed," said Kallus in kind, "whoever it was that named the  _fog of war_  obviously never spent time in a dust storm. Or a war, for that matter."

"So, Fulcrum, any idea where to start looking?"

"I don't have specific planetary coordinates, if that's what you mean," Kallus replied, "I sent a general transmission to Lasan, not a particular place on it. But the message did say the Empire is closing in on their location, so somewhere near the capitol is a fair bet. Any ideas?"

"One or two," said Zeb, casting his gaze about, "if we can find 'em in this mess. Place doesn't exactly look like I remember it. I gotta get my bearings. C'mon."

Putting his bo-rifle on the holder on his back, Zeb turned from the A-Wing and led the way into the dust storm, Kallus following close behind.


	3. Chapter Two

Zeb had been hesitant to go to the ruin of the royal palace in the center of the city and Kallus could well understand why. Not only was it a bit of an emotional trigger, but it was also a very obvious place to look for Lasat who might be hiding from the Empire. It was likely to be crawling with Imperials. And so Zeb had spent a few hours looking into entries to underground cistern systems and ruins of less prominent buildings. Finally, he was down to his last idea, leaving them no choice but to chance running into the enemy.

And, of course, it didn't take a whole lot of time before they did. Keeping back behind a corner, Kallus observed the lone Stormtrooper who was pacing about the area just outside the palace ruin. It seemed that only a skeleton guard had been left behind to patrol the area; a good thing for Kallus and Zeb.

"We'll have to get past him," Zeb said quietly from over Kallus' shoulder, "nothing for it."

"I had hoped to avoid even letting them know that we are here," Kallus replied, "you're certain there's no other way around?"

Zeb gave a nod. "The emergency escape tunnel's been blocked off by rubble," he said, "and enough of the outer wall is still standing that they'll spot us trying to go over. It's the front gate or nothing."

"The front gate it is, then," Kallus agreed, grimly. Zeb was about to move out of their cover and make a mad dash for the Stormtrooper to take him out, but Kallus held up a hand, halting him. "Wait," he said, "patience is a virtue."

"What are we waiting for?" Zeb asked. "He's alone right now."

"Just watch," Kallus instructed.

Zeb gave an impatient growl while Kallus looked back around the corner to watch the Stormtrooper. It was only another minute or so before the trooper lifted a hand to his helmet to activate him comm.

"CT-616 to base," he said, almost mechanically, "all quiet over here. Nothing to report."

With a bit of a satisfied smirk, Kallus gave a nod. "Now, we'll have more time before he is supposed to check in again."

"Yeah, all right," Zeb allowed, "fine. So you wanna take him out, or should I?"

"Oh, be my guest," Kallus replied, making a sweeping gesture toward the trooper in mock courtesy and stepping aside for the Lasat.

Zeb gave a wicked grin and cracked his knuckles, then waited for a moment when the Stormtrooper had his back turned to their position. The Lasat then shot out from their hiding place at full speed, charging straight for the trooper, a shoulder lowered. Kallus stayed out of sight, and so wasn't able to see what happened. But there was a loud thump, followed by an exclamation and the sound of a body hitting a wall, then the sound of it falling to the ground, then one more thump which he assumed was just for good measure.

Yes, if there was one thing at which Garazeb Orrelios was efficient, it was taking out Stormtroopers.

"Hey, you comin' or what?" Zeb asked, poking his head back around the corner to talk to Kallus again.

Kallus couldn't help the small chuckle as he followed Zeb back to the main gate.

Within what remained of the bombed-out royal palace of Lasan, the winds and the swirling dust were not quite so harsh, allowing them both to remove their protective gear from their faces. They stood under a great dome, darkness enveloping the very top of it but for one hole where it had fallen in. On the cracked and crumbling walls all about them, faded murals and half-obliterated reliefs gave a hint of their former splendor. The skeletons of fallen chandeliers and other lights littered the ground along with the stone debris. Kallus stood in the space for a moment trying to take it all in.

"I remember when this place was deemed unassailable," he mused, just loud enough for Zeb to hear, "and the bombs that were dropped here. It is a testament to its construction that any of it remains standing. It must have been... impressive."

"Yeah, it was," Zeb said with a quiet sigh, "part palace, part fortress. Strongest and most defensible building on the planet. It's why we held it for so long. I was here when the bombs fell. Only got out when a couple of other survivors found me unconscious in the rubble and dragged me to a shuttle."

Kallus felt a weight settle on his shoulders and his stomach turned into a knot. He found his focus spinning off into the distance, his eyes falling to the floor. He realized that he had spaced out when Zeb's big hand lightly punched his shoulder, causing him to stumble somewhat.

"Hey!" Zeb said. "What'd I tell you? Don't go there."

"Yes," Kallus said, shaking his head as if to clear it and squaring his shoulders somewhat, "yes, we have work to do. What are we looking for?"

"The Bolt Hole," said Zeb, "secret bunker under the foundation. It was built in case the royal family was ever trapped in the palace. They could go there and hide out for months, if they needed to until they had a chance to get out. Even most of the Honor Guard didn't know about it."

The squeal of something heavy and metal moving across stone sounded somewhere in the distance, followed by a clatter of stones hitting the floor. Instantly, Zeb reached for his bo-rifle and Kallus drew his pistol out of its thigh holster.

"How long is it usually between check-ins for the bucket-heads?" Zeb asked, keeping his voice a low as he could.

"Longer than this," Kallus said, echoing the Lasat's suspicion.

"Right," Zeb said, hefting his weapon into a more ready position, "watch our backs, yeah? I don't want any Imps sneaking up from behind."

 _Present company excluded, I expect._  The thought pushed its way into Kallus' mind without invite. Stubbornly, he pushed it back.  _I am a Rebel,_  he told it, firmly. Outwardly, he gave Zeb a nod and then took up a formation as rear-guard.

Climbing over a pile of rubble, Zeb led the way down a side hallway, into the growing darkness of the ruin and toward the direction of the sound. Slowly, they moved down its length. Kallus began to have a hard time seeing and he briefly wondered if Lasat had better eyesight in the dark; Zeb didn't seem to be having any trouble. Gravel crunched under their feet and the sound echoed off the crumbling stone walls.

Somewhere ahead of them and to the right, a flurry of falling rocks skittered over the ground. It was almost immediately followed by the distinct sound of hurried footsteps.

"Someone's in here," Zeb rumbled, softly.

"Ambush?" Kallus theorized.

"Not sure," Zeb replied, "there's another corridor up ahead. Be ready."

Cautiously, they continued on to the intersection. As they came to it, Zeb pointed the business end of his bo-rifle one direction and Kallus pointed his blaster the other. Wordlessly, they paused for a long moment, battle-ready, waiting for any sort of reaction. None came.

Kallus' sight was beginning to adjust to the dark, now. At the end of his end of the hallway, there was a faint, warm glow flickering against the walls. He almost didn't see it at first, but the flickering caught his attention the same way a moving object in your peripheral veiw might. Kallus nudged Zeb and indicated that direction.

Zeb nodded and motioned for Kallus to lead the way. Slowly, keeping their footsteps as quiet as they were able, they crept up on the entry way through which the glow was seeping. A tattered old piece of cloth was hanging over the entry, blocking most of the light and gently waving in what little air movement there was to be had. They took positions, each on one side of the doorway, and carefully pulled back the cloth just a little bit to get a look inside.

In the farthest corner, there was a lantern shedding a sickly light over the room. It looked like it had once been a storage room, shelves lining the walls and a couple of crates sitting here and there. The lantern was sitting on top of one of these and there were some other objects beside it, as if the crate was being used as a table. Against the far wall, a pile of dried out old straw was laid out, covered with several moth-eaten scraps of fabric. Various pieces of garbage were also scattered about. They couldn't see much else, but it was obvious that someone was using this room as some sort of a shelter.

Zeb held up his big fingers and gave a three-count. When he reached zero, he thrust aside the fabric over the doorway and burst into the room, pointing his bo-rifle toward his right. Kallus followed hard upon, covering the left.

But there was no one.

Kallus was just beginning to relax out of his battle-ready stance when something large dropped down on top of him from above. The impact sent his blaster flying from his grasp. There was something heavy across his shoulders, sharp points digging in on both sides. Large clawed hands covered his face. He vaguely heard Zeb give an exclamation of some sort, but was far too occupied with getting whatever it was off that remembering it later was simply out of the question.

Kallus bucked and struggled, trying to find purchase on the creature. But it was nimble and avoided his grasp every time, giving an almost feral-sounding growl. The two of them were top-heavy and it sent Kallus tumbling backward, landing against some of the wall-mounted shelves. This finally dislodged the creature and Kallus was able to roll out of its reach. Zeb was shouting a warning, thrusting his bo-rifle forward in the creature's direction, ordering it to freeze.

Scrabbling against the ground, trying to back itself into the remains of the rotting shelving, the creature gave a gasp and a cry of either fright or surprise, Kallus wasn't sure which.

"Honor Guard!" the creature screetched. "Don't hurt! Don't hurt! Drebbo is not your enemy!"

The creature finally stopped flailing and Kallus was able to get a good look at him. He was thin and wirery, covered in a threadbare cloak and dirty tunic that was barely holding together. He had bare feet with large, prehensile toes and his purple skin had tufts of fur growing long and scraggly in many places. He looked small, malnourished, and traumatized, but still unmistakably Lasat.

Kallus got to his feet slowly, exchanging a puzzled look with Zeb. Wordlessly they agreed that this was obviously no threat to them.

"We're not gonna hurt you," Zeb said with a sigh, lowering his bo-rifle and putting it away on the holder on his back. He held a hand out to the other Lasat. "C'mon out of there."

Slowly, the Lasat lowered his trembling hands and looked up at Zeb, his green eyes wide. "Honor Guard!" he breathed again, as if in wonder, tentatively taking hold of Zeb's hand. "The Honor Guard is returning to Lasan!"

Zeb's face fell in anticipation of the other Lasat's disappointment. "Uh, I'm afraid not," he mumbled, "it's just the two of us."

His eyes narrowing in suspicion, the Lasat looked over at Kallus, spearing him with a glare. "He is not Honor Guard!" he exclaimed. "Drebbo can see! Not Honor Guard! Not even Lasat!"

"No," Zeb allowed, "but he's my..." He seemed to stumbled over what to say. "Well, he's my friend, I guess," is what he decided upon, saying it with a fair amount of uncertainty.

"Well, there's a ringing endorsement," Kallus muttered, crossing his arms and giving a sour look.

"He's not going to hurt you either," Zeb said, pointedly. "Drebbo, is it? We're here to help. I'm Zeb, this is Kallus."

Drebbo's eyes snapped back to Zeb and narrowed, looking up at his face as if to more closely inspect it. After a moment, they widened in recognition.

"Oh yes!" he exclaimed. "Yes! Drebbo remembers you! Captain Orrelios! One of the Guard's best! Drebbo saw you! Yes, saw you fight the day the fire came from the sky! And many times before that, too. Drebbo remembers you well. Long you served at the palace while Drebbo worked there, too."

Zeb's eyes looked to the side, as if searching his memory. "Wait, Drebbo?" he asked. "As in Drebbolik Falko? The King's head scholar? I remember you."

"Maybe once," said Drebbo, "maybe. Hard to look back. They call him Drebbo, now."

Kallus let Zeb carry on the conversation with their new friend, but listened as he looked about the room, inspecting the various odds and ends that Drebbo had squirreled away in his hideout. Everything was old, broken, and falling apart. The only piece of technology in the room seemed to be the lantern. However, everything was also arranged as if with reverence, like some crazy kind of a museum. Whoever he had been when Zeb had known him, this Drebbo was obviously a few fighters short of a squadron, now.

Another detail stuck out to Kallus. There was no sign that anyone else had been using the hideout.

"And just who is 'they?'" he asked, turning back to Drebbo and Zeb. "You're obviously quite alone, here."

"Alone!" Drebbo exclaimed, covering the distance to Kallus in just a couple of strides, getting right into his face. "Drebbo is not alone! Drebbo hears them! The Ashla and the Bogan! They speak to Drebbo! Speak to  _all_  of Drebbo."

Kallus tried to take a step back to get the Lasat out of his personal space, but Drebbo simply followed, looking into Kallus' eyes as if searching for something.

"All of you?" Kallus asked with uncertainty.

"Yes!" Drebbo exclaimed, placing his hands on Kallus' shoulders. "They once spoke to the Drebbo-Who-Was. Before the Drebbo Who-Was stopped speaking. The Drebbo-Who-Was... remembers. He remembers the fire from the sky. The trees burning! The palace collapsing! Fell right on top of him. When he saw again there were bodies. Bodies everywhere! Charred and burning bodies, some turned to soup! So many bodies!" His eyes were desperate now and he clung on to Kallus as if for dear life.

But then he stopped, suddenly, as if he had seen something. Impossibly, he leaned in closer, staring right into Kallus' eyes.

"Oh!" Drebbo exclaimed with excitement, suddenly pushing himself away from Kallus, sending the former-agent tumbling back into the wall. "Oh! But you remember, too! Yes! Drebbo can see it!" Sobering somewhat, Drebbo got back into Kallus' face once more. "Drebbo sees the words the Bogan spoke to you," he said darkly, "they are forever carved into your heart. You did not see them before, but you see them now."

There was something about that statement that sent a chill running up Kallus' spine. The wild green eyes seemed to drill into him and Kallus felt his breath shorten. Somehow, there was no threat here. But he just wanted to get away from the little Lasat.

"Get away from me!" Kallus exclaimed, pushing Drebbo back and rolling along the wall to escape the grasp. He stumbled back over toward Zeb, scooping up his blaster from the floor on the way.

"Drebbo sees," the Lasat continued, still in the same chilling tone, "the Ashla showed you the words the Bogan spoke. And now. Now, you are caught in between."

"What the  _kriff_  is he talking about?" Kallus asked Zeb.

"I'm not sure," Zeb admitted, "the Ashla and Bogan are the names the Lasat use for the light and the dark side of the Force. But beyond that, I haven't the foggiest."

Kallus threw up his hands in frustration. "Kanan and Bridger aren't even  _here_  and this insanity still follows! What is it with all of you and the...  _weird_  stuff?"

"Surprisingly," Zeb said with a shrug, "usually, the weird stuff helps."

"In any case, this Lasat is obviously quite mad," Kallus stated, "and he doesn't have anything that would be capable of sending the message that was received by the Alliance."

"Oh, he's bonkers as a bantha on tooka-nip," Zeb said in agreement, "but he's the only lead we've got." Zeb turned back to their new friend. "Drebbo, is there anyone else here? Are there any other survivors still on Lasan?"

"Drebbo cannot say," he answered, "saying would mean that Drebbo knows. Drebbo does not know. So Drebbo cannot say."

"Oh, what a fantastic lead we've found," Kallus deadpanned with sarcasm.

Suddenly, Drebbo gave a cry of fright, covering his ears with his hands. "The Bogan! The Bogan is roaring! Screaming! It is coming! Coming back!" He headed for the lantern, quite obviously intending to turn it off. However, Kallus got there first and snatched it away.

"Some of us need that light," Kallus carped.

"No, wait," said Zeb, ears pricked up at full attention, "listen."

Kallus didn't hear anything at first except for Drebbo's pathetic whimpers. But then, faint at first but growing rapidly, a rough, high-pitched whine began to sound somewhere outside the palace ruin. As it got closer, it began to rattle the stone around them, as if tearing the very walls apart with its shrieking.

Kallus knew that sound.

"TIE-fighters!' he exclaimed, looking over at Zeb.

"Yeah, and it sounds like they're landing outside," Zeb agreed, "looks like our Stormtrooper friend missed his check-in. We gotta move."

"That Bolt Hole you mentioned," Kallus said, "we might need it."

"If it's even still there anymore," Zeb said in agreement, "c'mon!" He took Drebbo by the hand and led the way out of the tiny hideout. Kallus scooped up the lantern and followed.

Zeb led them down several corridors, obviously navigating the ruin by pure memory. They scrambled over several piles of fallen stone and squeezed through a few cracks before they found themselves in a room below ground level that looked like it might have once been a kitchen. Making for the back wall, Zeb heaved aside a large piece of wall with built-in shelving. It yielded reluctantly, stone grinding on stone as it did. As soon as there was just enough space, Zeb pushed Drebbo and Kallus through into the darkness beyond. Zeb then squeezed through after them and heaved the wall closed once again.

"This is your bolt hole?" Kallus asked in disbelief, gesturing around them at the otherwise empty room. "Even a Stormtrooper cadet will find this!"

"Quiet!" Zeb growled. He made for the back wall and crouched down, running his fingers along the corner where the wall met the floor. He found what he was looking for and with a click, a small panel popped open in the floor, irregularly-shaped to match the stonework on the floor and cleverly disguised to fit in perfectly with the grout. Beyond it, stairs led down into the darkness. "In!" Zeb commanded.

Casting a dubious glance at the dust that they had disturbed around them, Kallus nonetheless climbed into the hole. Drebbo followed and then came Zeb. Just as he was about to close the panel over his head, Zeb grabbed what looked to be a stone from a small shelf in the wall of the tiny stairwell. He fiddled with it and it began to make a hissing noise, a cloud beginning to form around it. Zeb tossed it outside and then snapped the panel closed and locked it.

"If that thing's still working right, it'll cover our tracks up again," said Zeb.

"I see," Kallus said, sounding a little impressed, "if your enemy is looking for a secret room, let him find a secret room and make it look as though it hasn't been used in years."

"Their own conclusions keep 'em from looking any further," said Zeb.

"Quite clever," Kallus mused.

Drebbo gave a short chuckle, grinning somewhat slyly. "Clever, yes," he muttered, "the Drebbo-Who-Was was very clever. He thought it up."

"You thought of this?" Kallus asked the smaller Lasat.

"No," Drebbo replied, sounding sour, "not Drebbo. Drebbo-Who-Was."

"Right, of course," Kallus carped, putting his face in his hand, "how foolish of me."

"Shut up!" Zeb breathed out at them both, sounding so harsh and commanding that they couldn't help but obey.

Above, Kallus could hear voices approaching, the modulated sound of Stormtroopers speaking through their helmets. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but one of them seemed excited about something. Only a moment later there was the grating stone-on-stone rumble of the outer secret door being shoved open. Kallus and Zeb both drew their weapons and took up position, aiming for the closed hatch above them.

"Ha! No wonder they were all killed!" one of the Stormtroopers above could be heard saying. "Dumb Lasat couldn't even make a decent secret room."

"Yeah," another said, "but this place looks like no one's been inside it for years. Look at all this dust everywhere. Looks like no one's been in here since they bombed the capitol."

"Okay," said the first, "let's keep going, then."

At last they heard the clacking footfalls of the Stormtroopers retreating and Kallus and Zeb both breathed a heavy sigh of relief, lowering their weapons.

"That was too close," Kallus whispered.

"No argument here," Zeb agreed.

"Ashla preserve us," Drebbo breathed.

"So, what's our next move?" Kallus asked, daring to raise his voice just a little as he holstered his blaster and leaned against a wall. "Drebbo obviously isn't the one who sent the transmission. It was a woman's voice. So there's someone else on the planet."

"Yeah, but whose side are they on?" Zeb mused. "We got some time to figure it out, at any rate. We won't be able to leave here for several hours at least. Let's get some rest while we can. I'll take first watch and-"

"No!" Drebbo interrupted. "No time! We must go now!"

Zeb gave a sigh. "Drebbo, we can't," he said, "not until those Stormtroopers clear out of the palace."

"Not through the palace," Drebbo replied as if speaking to a child, "of course not through the palace. Drebbo is not crazy!"

"That's a matter of perspective," Kallus muttered.

Drebbo shot Kallus a sour look, then moved toward the back of the bolt hole. "He is just a Fool," he muttered, beginning to push aside a stack of crates and old supplies, "just a Fool who does not see the path. Drebbo does not hold this against him. It is the Fool's lot in life." Moving aside the old supplies, Drebbo reached for a spot on the wall, though neither Zeb nor Kallus could see anything of note there. Then, there was a click and another panel popped out. Drebbo moved aside with a flourish, revealing a dark, cobwebbed tunnel. "Drebbo will show the Fool the way," the Lasat said with a long-suffering tone, "Drebbo is used to thankless tasks."

"There's a back way out of here?" Zeb asked, sounding utterly surprised. "I didn't know there was a back way out of here."

"But where does it lead?" Kallus asked.

"Up!" Drebbo exclaimed. "Out! Come, come, Drebbo will show you." He poked Zeb in the chest with a self-satisfied smile. "Guns are impressive, but now Drebbo leads!" With what sounded for all the world like a giggle, he spun around and dashed off into the tunnel.

Zeb just shrugged at Kallus and then followed. For his part, Kallus felt a headache coming on. But, with a sigh, he too followed the two Lasat, still carrying the lantern.

In the light-source's sickly glow, the tunnel resembled more of a tomb than anything else. In contrast to the splendid art that had been inside the palace, the tunnel was rough-hewn from the rock, almost as if it had been an after-thought or done in haste. Dirty, stale air pushed into Kallus' throat and he had to cover his face with his scarf again. Cobwebs ghosted their pull over his hair. At several points, he had to duck his head a little bit to avoid hitting what passed for a ceiling. He could only imagine how uncomfortable Zeb must have been.

The shuffle down the tunnel felt nearly interminable. In the dark, with no points of reference, Kallus had only his own footsteps to judge the distance by. By the time Drebbo finally brought them to a halt at the end, he figured they had to have walked more than a mile. A weathered old ladder leaned against the tunnel's dead end, leading up to a rough hatch above. Drebbo was about to make for it, but Zeb checked him and took to the ladder himself.

"Cover me," he rumbled back at Kallus. The Human nodded and drew his blaster, taking up a defensive position.

There must have been something on top of the hatch, holding it closed, for Zeb had to push with a great deal of strength to get it open. For a moment, it seemed as though Drebbo had led them to an escape route with no exit. But finally there was a clatter of stone above them and Zeb was finally able to push open the hatch. He took a tentative look through the partially-opened exit, then slowly pushed it open, letting the bright sunlight stream in, making them all squint.

"Looks clear out there," Zeb reported, climbing out into the light, "c'mon."

Kallus was about to follow but Drebbo stepped in his way, defiantly standing between him and the ladder, looking at Kallus with a critical eye, as if appraising.

"What are you doing?" Kallus asked, struggling to keep his patience.

"Drebbo-Who-Was remembers this one," the skinny Lasat bit out, "he saw you.

Drebbo-Who-Was does not like this one. He says, this one is an enemy of the Lasat. He says you called the fire that day."

Kallus rolled his eyes. "I am not your enemy, Drebbo," he sighed.

"No," Drebbo said, turning to the ladder to begin climbing, "but you were his. Whose are you now?"

If Kallus didn't know the guy was completely crazy, he would have thought that Drebbo was goading him on purpose. Holstering his sidearm and gritting his teeth, Kallus silently begged the universe to cut him some damned slack, already as he climbed the ladder. By the time he reached the open air, Drebbo's entire demeanor had changed again. He had a triumphant smile on his face and spun around with his arms wide.

"See?" he said. "Drebbo shows you ways under, up, and out!"

"Where have we ended up?" Kallus asked Zeb as they closed the hatch and placed some tumbled debris back over it again.

"Not sure," said Zeb, "but it looks like one of the city's old mass transit hubs. Just don't know which one."

At that moment, a blazing red blaster bolt zinged past Zeb's left ear, missing him by mere inches and impacting on a wall behind. Drebbo gave a shreik and darted behind a large boulder. Zeb and Kallus ducked just as a hail of bolts filled the air and the voices of Stormtroopers raising the alarm reached their ears. Drawing weapons, the two of them joined Drebbo behind the boulder, one on either side of the cowering Lasat.

"I'd hazard it's the one on the west side," Kallus said dryly, over the din of the blaster bolts. Both he and Zeb returned a few shots before ducking back down under another volley.

"Guess they know we're here," Zeb cracked, sounding grim.


	4. Chapter Three

Trying to evade the Stormtroopers wasn't easy while Zeb was leading a panicked, crazy, screaming Lasat by the hand as they dodged blaster fire. He had half a mind to clobber Drebbo over the head and carry him like a sack of jogans. Kallus looked like he was about three-quarters of the way there, himself.

The trio ducked in and out of the city ruins, running and firing answering shots at their persuers as they went.

"Will you please stop shouting!" Kallus finally snapped, while they were huddled behind the remains of a wall.

"Drebbo is trying!" the Lasat answered, covering his ears with his hands and trembling. "But Drebbo is very, very scared!"

"Right on both counts!" Kallus replied.

"You know, that's really not helping!" Zeb exclaimed. "We gotta get out of here! Any ideas?"

"Ooh! Drebbo has an idea! Drebbo knows where we can go!"

"That doesn't help if we can't get there," Kallus carped, still firing off shots from his blaster, "we need to get away from here safely, first."

"Okay, Drebbo has  _part of_  an idea?"

Kallus let out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"Well, I've got something," Zeb said, his bo-rifle nearly ablaze, "but you're really not gonna like it."

"Anything is better than being shot at!" Kallus shouted back.

"Are you sure?"

"Zeb!" Kallus' tone was positively parental, like he was about to tell the Lasat to do as he was told or go sit in a corner.

"All right, fine, just don't say I didn't warn you." Zeb shoved his bo-rifle into Kallus' right hand, leaving him to use his blaster with his left alone. "Cover me!"

Kallus redoubled his fire, now letting loose on the Stormtroopers with both weapons. The returned fire lessened somewhat under the volley and Zeb took the moment to dash for a nearby ruined wall that lined the outer edge of the transportation hub. Reaching into a storage compartment on his belt, Zeb pulled out several small, round detonators. One by one, he armed them and then set them at the base of the wall, dodging fire as he went. Once the last of them was deposited and waiting, he skidded around and dove back into the meager cover being used by his comrades. He reclaimed his bo-rifle from Kallus and then hauled Drebbo to his feet.

"Get ready to run," Zeb ordered, "Kallus, we need a retreating action."

"That isn't going to get them to stop firing at us!" Kallus protested.

"Just do it!"

Zeb bodily grabbed Drebbo under one arm and held his bo-rifle in the other. The smaller Lasat screeched and wiggled in terror, but it was only a token resistance. Kallus, too, was on his feet and they both started to retreat toward another piece of cover, firing the whole time. A few of the Stormtroopers found the lull in the exchange of fire this caused and got a little more bold, advancing on their position. But soon they would come to an open square with no cover to speak of for a very long stretch. It was closer than Zeb wanted, but there was little choice.

"Run for it!" Zeb shouted, pressing down on the triggering device for the explosives.

Zeb had barely taken two steps before they went off with a tremendous bang. The shock wave was upon them only a breath later, sending them flying, rock and metal following them as the ruin blew sky-high. Zeb lost his grip on Drebbo as both of them and Kallus flew through the air, uncontrolled with the blast. The ground hit him hard and he rolled for a few yards, hearing his companions making similar landings. As soon as he could, he covered his head to protect it from the pieces of stone that were raining down upon them.

When all was silent again, Zeb tentatively looked up. He spotted Drebbo first who was already pushing himself up, swearing a blue streak. Zeb looked about and found Kallus a couple yards away, just beginning to stir, shaking his head as if to clear it. Zeb climbed to his feet and covered the distance just as Kallus was beginning to push off the ground.

"You alive?" he asked.

"I loathe you," Kallus moaned, foggily recovering his wits and stiffly recovering his strength.

"Yeah, loathe me later," Zeb commanded, grabbing the back of Kallus' jacket and pulling him the rest of the way to his feet. "Let's go."

"Drebbo didn't like that," the other Lasat whined, walking over to Zeb and Kallus on unsteady legs.

"Just tell us where we're going," Zeb snapped.

"Drebbo shows you the way," he replied, sounding punch-drunk, "but Drebbo has a very big pain in his head."

"Drebbo," Kallus carped, " _is_  a very big pain in the-"

"Enough of that," Zeb interrupted, pushing the both of them on the shoulders to get them moving, "just walk."

* * *

It took the better part of twenty minutes for Kallus' ears to stop ringing. And when that stopped, it still did nothing for the various aches all over his body. To make matters worse, they had taken so many turns in their trek through the city ruins that he was beginning to think that Drebbo was leading them around in circles. Zeb had taken on the onerous duty of trying to keep Drebbo focused on... whatever their destination was. So that left Kallus on lookout. His senses were on overdrive, alert to every sound and shift in the scenery.

The wind had let up a little bit, thankfully, letting Kallus leave the scarf off of his face. But the lack of swirling clouds of dust made the unforgiving sun that much stronger.

At long last, Drebbo led Zeb and Kallus to the remains of what appeared to be a destroyed market of some sort. The remains of market stalls were littered about, burnt out and faded with the dust and sun. Some of them even had what was left of their wares scattered around them in various states of disuse or destruction. In the center of the square there was what had once been a tall stone spire. It had broken off about two-thirds of the way to the bottom and toppled over, the top portion shattered into many pieces.

Something about the place made the hairs on the back of Kallus' neck stand on end. It gave him a chilling sense of deja vu. But he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Drebbo stopped close to the broken spire and looked about as if to make certain that everything was where it was supposed to be. Finally, he gave a sage nod, hands on hips.

"See? Drebbo found it," he declared.

Zeb and Kallus looked to each other in confusion, then cast about the empty square, looking for anything significant.

"Found... what, exactly?" Zeb asked.

"The place!" Drebbo said excitedly. "This place! Where the Bogan was screaming at that one." He turned his attention now squarely to Kallus, approaching the Human slowly, as if peering through a darkeness only he could see. "Where it echoed the words that it had carved in your heart. But the Ashla spoke, too. Faint, overpowered by the Bogan, but it whispered to you for the first time in so very long."

"What are you talking about?" Kallus asked, unable to keep to obstinant tone from his voice.

Drebbo came right next to Kallus, then, invading Kallus' personal space and bringing their faces only inches apart. His eyes were wild with excitement. " _Boosahn Keeraw_ ," he whispered.

At first, Kallus puzzled over the words, looking at Drebbo in utter confusion. However, it slowly trickled through his mind that he knew those words, that he had heard them before and had them explained. And then, striking like lightning and jolting him from his head down to his feet, he understood. Desperately pushing Drebbo out of the way, he looked around at the market again, bewildered.

"I've been here," he said, "this is where I was that day when... when I fought the Guardsman who gave me his bo-rifle."

"He begins to see!" Drebbo exclaimed.

"It was our fight that toppled that spire," Kallus went on, indicating the center of the square, "he had me against it and I only just managed to get out of the way of his strike before..." Shaking himself free of the memory, Kallus looked back to Drebbo and glared, hands clenching into fists. "Why would you bring us  _here_ , of all places, you wretched little-"

"Ah," Drebbo said, interrupting the tirade, as if speaking to himself, "Bogan is still talking. Stubborn thing."

" _Karabast_ , we don't have time for this," Zeb muttered, "Drebbo, you said you knew where to go. What in the name of the Ashla are we doing here?"

"The Ashla!" Drebbo exclaimed. "Yes! The Ashla said Drebbo must bring us here. Well, him anyway." He waved a casual hand at Kallus. "He needs to remember. He needs to see."

"This is pointless," Zeb said with a roll of his eyes, "we gotta move on. Let's go."

"No!" Drebbo exclaimed. Defiantly, he sat down on one of the toppled pieces of the spire, crossing his arms indignantly. "Drebbo will not leave until that one sees! Until he sees it again!"

Zeb heaved a sigh, looking back at Kallus with impatience and a bit of an apology in his eyes. "Just... humor him, yeah? Look around and tell him what you see."

Taking a breath and counting to five to keep from throttling the smaller Lasat, Kallus paused, looking skyward. Finally, he gave another look around at their surroundings; market stalls, debris, the shattered spire.

"All I see is a battlefield," Kallus said, impatiently, "the broken remains of a very long and horrible day for everyone involved. Now can we please move on?"

Drebbo shook his head, sadly. "He clings to what the Bogan showed him that day," he said, "Drebbo didn't want this, but Drebbo has no choice, it seems."

What happened next came so fast that Kallus was never quite sure afterward how it had happened. In one quick motion, Drebbo lept to his feet, got right into Kallus' personal space again, and blew some sort of dust from his hand and right into Kallus' face. Kallus gasped in surprise, taking a couple of steps back, the dust stinging his eyes and irritating his throat. He coughed and tried to wave the dust away.

"What are you doing!?" he exclaimed, trying to clear the dust from his eyes and leaning against the still-upright portion of the spire. He coughed for several more seconds. When he was finally able to open his eyes again, he found his vision blurred. His head began to swim and try as he might he couldn't get anything to come into focus. Sparks danced at the edges of his sight.

"Hey, you all right?" Zeb's voice echoed to him from across a long expanse, sounding concerned. But when he looked up, it wasn't Zeb who he saw.

In the space where Zeb should have been, the enraged and almost feral face of the Guardsman whose name Kallus had never learned roared at him, his weapon speeding in for the kill. With a yelp, Kallus vaulted to the side and saw the Guardsman's bo-rifle strike home on the spire, breaking it where it hit. It toppled to the ground and shattered.

But that wasn't right. That had been years ago.

Feeling sick, Kallus looked around desperately to find some piece of the present. The sounds of men in close-quarters fighting raged in his ears, metal against metal, fist against flesh.

"What did you do to him!?" he heard Zeb growl.

"The Ashla speaks to him now!" someone else exclaimed in reply. "But still he sees only what the Bogan showed him. He must see again, with the eyes of the Ashla! See what the Bogan did not want him to see!"

Phantoms danced across Kallus' vision, Lasat and Human in bloody conflict. Stormtroopers fought against desperate Guardsmen and all around men on both sides fell into gruesome death. Kallus stumbled backward as his opponent came at him again, reaching for his vibro-blade to block the Lasat's vicious downward strike. He got it in place just in time and they locked together, fire in both their eyes trying to burn through the other.

But no. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Terror closed around Kallus' heart, squeezing like a fist in cruelty. He pushed the Guardsman away and vaulted back up to his feet.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen," he insisted.

"Kallus!" he heard Zeb's voice drift to him again, heightened concern coloring his tone. But when he looked, he saw again the Guardsman. He moved to meet the attack and once again they locked together in combat. The fight continued to play out in front of his eyes, though he could not feel himself making his strikes or forming his blocks.

"Look again!" another voice called to him, seemingly from nowhere. "See things you did not see before!"

Oddly enough, the command sounded like really good advice. Kallus risked taking his eyes off his opponent for a second to look around.

"I'm the one you're fighting!" the Guardsman roared, pulling his attention back. "Don't look away from me!"

Kallus' eyes snapped back to the Guardsman, reading his movements, ready to meet his next attack. That was what he had said, that day. The Guardsman had demanded Kallus' full attention. But a question occurred to him then that he hadn't thought of that day.

_Why?_

The question whispered in his mind, gentle but insistent. He did not remember the question from that day. He had had eyes for the fight alone.

_Why does he fight? Look!_

And then Kallus saw it. His mind had replayed the moment so many times in his head and he had never seen it before. But there, in the Guardsman's eyes, amidst all the rage and hate, he saw it for the first time.

"You're afraid!" he said with realization. "But not of me. What... what are you afraid of?" He began to look about again but the Lasat struck out once more.

"Look at  _me_ , Imperial!" he snarled.

 _See what he is afraid of!_  his mind insisted again.  _See what you could not before!_

Kallus had to answer the whisper. He had to heed its word. He had no choice.

He looked away from the Guardsman, past him, to the rest of the scene beyond. The Guardsman was still attacking, but it did not matter. Kallus let it come. Instead he looked beyond the Lasat, to the frightened people on the outskirts who were fleeing the scene.

"That's it!" he said with realization.

And the Guardsman's attack struck home, landing in his chest sharp and hot. The force of it was like being slammed into by a TIE-fighter. It sent him reeling to the ground, pinned there by his opponent's weapon. It wasn't how it had played out that day, but it did not matter. Instead, he watched as the fleeing civilians moved along the outside of the market. The one in the lead looked over to him in horror and sadness for a moment, before continuing on. She opened a hole in the ground and led the way into it, several more following behind her.

Kallus' gaze drifted back to his opponent once again. He was standing over him, looking down at him from a pale face that was covered in grime and blood, brown eyes locking on to his own, peering at him from beneath a mussed up fringe of blond hair. He looked confused for a moment.

Kallus grasped his weapon in one hand. " _Boosahn Keeraw_ ," he said to his opponent, holding his weapon out for him to take.

And then he was accepting the weapon from the Guardsman once more, taking hold of it in a baffled daze. He felt himself holding it up a moment later, in triumph. But his gaze was on the place where the hole in the ground had been. It had diseappeared, closed up as though it wasn't even there. He was vaguely aware of a desperate voice calling his name from somewhere far away and he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

Pushing free of the hands, Kallus stumbled in the direction of the hole in the ground. He could hardly seem to keep his feet under him as the world swirled around his head. He fell to all fours upon a pile of debris. This was where the hole had been. He began to work quickly, pushing aside old stone and rusted metal. The hole opened before him and then he felt himself pitching forward, falling into it. The blackness pulled him down and swallowed him like a hungry beast.


	5. Chapter Four

Zeb hated to admit it, but he was actually pretty close to panic. He had been completely helpless as he had watched what unfolded with Kallus. It was as if the Human wasn't even aware of his surroundings. He had flinched from unseen attacks and muttered nonsense to himself. All of that was strange enough. But it was when Kallus had frantically scratched at a pile of rubble, clearing it away, that things went completely crazy.

He had worked for several minutes, completely unaware of Zeb's attempts to get his attention, eyes only on whatever strange task he had been set upon. When at last the rubble had been cleared away, a metal hatch had been revealed, surface rusted with disuse, looking almost like it had even predated the fall of Lasan.

Kallus had stared at it for several long seconds, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped over on top of it, entirely unconscious.

The instant he hit the ground, Zeb scrambled to him and turned him over, pulling him away from the hatch.

"Hey! Kallus!" he called, lightly tapping the side of the unconscious Human's face. "Wake up! C'mon!" When that proved fruitless, he looked up at Drebbo with a growl. "What'd you do to him!?" he demanded.

"Drebbo did not want to!" the other Lasat replied, quickly, his hands flying up in defense. "But Drebbo had to know! For the Ashla! Needed that one to find it!"

" _Karabast_ ," Zeb swore, deciding that he wasn't going to be getting a clear answer from the mad-man. He looked back to Kallus when his head twitched to the side, his breathing quickening somewhat, as if he was caught in a nightmare.

Maybe he was.

"It tells Drebbo we need to go!" Drebbo interrupted Zeb's thoughts. "It says the Bogan is near, again." He made for the old hatch and knocked it near the edges, shaking loose some of the rust that was holding it closed. With a loud creak, it swung open, revealing a hole with a ladder, leading down into a tunnel.

"You knew where this was the whole time, didn't you," Zeb said, accusingly, "what'd you need him to find it for when you already knew!?"

"Drebbo told you! For the Ashla! Time to go! Time to go!"

And he was right. Just as Drebbo's insistence reached an almost frantic pitch, Zeb heard the sounds of speeder engines somewhere in the ruins nearby. The sounds of Stormtrooper voices, shouting orders and acknowledgements back and forth came to him. The hole was their best option.

"All right, get in!" he snapped at Drebbo, shifting the unconscious Kallus so that he could lift him up under the shoulders. "I'll hand him down to you. Go! Now!"

In a flash, Drebbo had scrambled down the ladder and disappeared into the darkness. Meanwhile, Zeb manhandled Kallus over to the hole, somewhat relieved to hear a soft groan of unconscious protest at the treatment. Carefully, Zeb lowered Kallus down into the hole until he felt most of his weight taken off. When he was certain Drebbo had hold of Kallus, he let go and then followed down into the hole himself, pulling the hatch closed. Complete darkness enveloped him and he had to climb down the ladder by feel.

"Oof!" he heard Drebbo exclaim. "This one is heavy."

Zeb groped on his belt for a small flashlight that he kept there and turned it on. Drebbo was bent nearly double under Kallus' dead weight. Zeb stooped down and relieved Drebbo of the unconscious man, lifting him up into a fireman's carry over his shoulders.

"It won't take 'em long to find that hatch," Zeb told Drebbo, "we gotta move. Where does this tunnel lead, anyway?"

"It is safe. Drebbo will show you. They'll speak to you. Come! Come!"

Drebbo scurried off down the tunnel and Zeb followed somewhat more carefully. This tunnel was different from the one they had used to get out of the palace. That one hadn't been pleasant, exactly, but at least it had been dry. This time, Zeb felt his feet shuffling through an inch or so of cold water. The walls, made from brick and mortar, were damp and here and there little rivulets clung to them to flow to the floor. The whole place had a musty old smell and Zeb realized that it was the antiquated, long-abandoned sewer system that the city had once used more than a hundred years ago. The Republic had helped them to upgrade to a much more modern, planet-wide system at that time. He had thought that all of the old tunnels had been sealed off.

Zeb marveled at it. Old cities; you never knew what you'd find under them.

Drebbo was obviously well-acquainted with the tunnels. He led them through them, going from junction to junction with a resolute purpose and surety that he hadn't displayed on the surface.

"You still haven't said where we're going," Zeb rumbled at him after nearly a half hour of silent walking.

"To talk to them," Drebbo replied, "Drebbo is sure now. It is safe."

"Hey, look, if you think that I'm gonna let you make me have some kind of weird, drugged-up experience, you've got another thing coming."

"Why would Drebbo do that?"

"Well you did it to my friend, here," Zeb replied, "what was that stuff, anyway?"

"Drebbo does not remember," the smaller Lasat stated, "but he uses it to talk to the Drebbo-Who-Was; to help him remember."

Suddenly, Zeb had a sinking feeling that it wasn't just solitude that had had an effect on Drebbo's mind.

"Great," he sighed, sounding dubious, "you better not be on that stuff right now."

"The Drebbo-Who-Was is sleeping now," Drebbo replied, almost cheerfully, "he has let go of Drebbo for the time being."

"Yeah, that's not filling me with confidence," said Zeb, "how much further we going?"

As if in answer, a blaster bolt suddenly zinged past, just over Zeb's head. Ducking slightly, Zeb stopped dead in his tracks.

"Stop right there!" a female voice called out from somewhere ahead of them.

"Uhm, this far, I think," said Drebbo, putting his hands up into the air as a bright light came on, from the other voice's direction, stealing any dark-vision Zeb had developed in the tunnel. "Don't shoot! Friends!"

"Drebbo?" the woman asked, as if surprised. "Is that you? Where the kark have you been? Who's that with you?"

"Drebbo found them! They answered the call! They came to save all of us!"

"Hello?" Zeb ventured. "You sent a call out to Fulcrum. We're here to help."

"You're Fulcrum?"

"No, that would be the passed out guy on my shoulders," said Zeb, "look, my friend isn't well. Something's wrong with him. Can I approach?"

"If you're working with him, you'll know the pass-phrase," the woman answered, "what is it?"

"Oh for the love of..." Zeb muttered, then gave a sigh, "by the light of Lothal's moons. You satisfied?"

"All right," said the woman, her light dropping away from Zeb's face to point more toward the floor, "approach slowly."

Drebbo led the way, a little excited. Zeb followed him a bit more cautiously, still carrying Kallus and carefully maneuvering so as to avoid knocking his head against the wall.

"Guess who it is, Fal!" Drebbo exclaimed, reaching the vague silhouette that Zeb was now beginning to be able to see. "Guess who it is! Guess who came for us!"

"Drebbo, I really don't..." the woman said, trailing off as Zeb approached, "well, I'll be a bantha's boob."

Zeb was able to see the woman now. She was a Lasat, as he had expected. Her skin tended a bit more toward the lavender end of things. Her long black hair was hanging down over her shoulders in three even braids. Over threadbare clothing, she wore the careworn and battered old armor of one of the High Honor Guard. In her hands she held a bo-rifle of silver metal with a matte finish. But all of this was less surprising than the fact that Zeb actually knew her.

"Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Captain Orrelios?" she asked. "I never in a million years dreamed that it would be you. We all thought you had died, sir!"

"Zimraphal Reffallion," Zeb said with awe, "I thought I was the last of the Honor Guard."

"I didn't know that  _anyone_  else had survived," she answered, "I thought we were the last Lasat left. How did you escape?"

"Look, it's a long story," Zeb replied, "and Drebbo did something to my friend here. He needs help."

She rolled her eyes, then looked over at Drebbo with a long-practiced expression of exasperation. "Oh, what did you do, Drebbo?"

"Drebbo had to be sure," he replied, "Drebbo had to make sure that one listened to the Ashla."

"Tell me you didn't give some of your Pinch to a Human."

"Uhm... okay, Drebbo will lie, then. Drebbo did not give his Pinch to the Human."

Reffallion looked back up at Zeb, apologetically. "Oh no, I'm sorry about this Captain," she said.

"Look, those days are over," he replied, "just call me Zeb. And just how much trouble is my friend in?"

"Well, that probably depends on how much Drebbo gave him," she replied, "how much, Drebbo?"

"Drebbo was not sure how much to use on a Human," said the mad Lasat, "and Drebbo had to be sure, so Drebbo used... oh, wait, no, Drebbo is supposed to lie. Drebbo  _did not_  use all of it."

"You gave him an  _overdose_!?" Zeb exclaimed

"Let me see him," Reffalion said, setting her bo-rifle on its holder on her back and coming forward to take a look at Kallus' face. Taking his head in both hands, she was reaching for the pulse point on his neck when she gave a gasp and let go as if she had been burned. "What is this?" she asked Zeb accusingly.

"Ah, I was sorta hoping you wouldn't know who he is, just yet," Zeb ventured.

"That is Agent Kallus, the Butcher of Lasan!"

"Now, I know what you must be thinking-"

"The  _kriff_  you do! Why are you with  _him_!?"

This was already spiraling out of control. Zeb didn't have time for this. Or more to the point, Kallus didn't. If Drebbo really had given Kallus an overdose of whatever that drug had been, there was no telling what would happen if he didn't get help and fast. So Zeb dug in and stood his ground.

"That's a long story too," he said, firmly, "and one that I'd really like for him to give his own side of. So if you don't mind, Lieutenant."

She gave a low growl from the back of her throat and seemed to weigh Zeb's words. Finally, she gave in, seeming to conclude that Zeb, of all people, wouldn't put her people in danger.

"Call me Fal, everyone else around here does," she said with a sigh, "and come with me."

Still looking horrendously sour, she turned and led the way deeper into the tunnels. Drebbo gave a little cheer and followed eagerly, leaving Zeb to bring up the rear with his burden.

* * *

Including Drebbo and Fal, there were ten Lasat in all in hiding in the old sewers. They had carved out something of a home in what appeared to have been a processing plant or other such subterranean facility before equipment had been removed to seal it off. It had resulted in a large, cavernous space where the survivors had built individual homes out of materials scavenged from the surface. It rather reminded Zeb of the various refugee camps he had bounced around between shortly after the fall of Lasan and before he decided how to make his way on his own.

But at the same time, it almost felt a little more like home, in way. Among the materials needed for survival, there were personal touches; a small garden in a box near one little shack, a court marked out for Moopsball just big enough for one-on-one, even a large painting on one of the big walls as a memorial to what they had lost. It was actually pretty impressive, when you looked a little closer.

Zeb took all of this in as he stood at the main entry way to the cavern, still carrying Kallus over his shoulders. There was something just oddly normal about it all, peaceful even. It was like these ten survivors had intended to hide beneath the ashes of their world in peace until such a day as the Empire was no longer a threat. But sadly, that was not to be.

Fal led him down the stairs to the main floor. One by one, faces all turned to them as they entered. Fal gave a warm, reassuring greeting to each, assuring them that she was going to answer all their questions as soon as she could. It was obvious that they all looked to her for leadership. Zeb supposed that it wasn't surprising, considering that there didn't seem to be any other fighters among them. He had a million questions himself, but the slight stirring from the man over his shoulders and a moan of apparent delirium reminded him that he had more pressing matters.

Drebbo dissolved away, surrounded by the other Lasat who immediately began to try and prize any sort of coherent information out of him that they could. Meanwhile, Fal shuffled Zeb and Kallus into her own shack.

"Put him on the cot over there," she told him heading for a cabinet against the far wall. She rooted around inside and produced a well-worn med kit.

Zeb got Kallus settled on the cot. The former-Imperial's eyes fluttered open for a moment, glassy and unfocused, and he gave a feeble attempt at trying to push away from Zeb, sounding distressed. A sweat had broken out on his forehead and he was distressingly pale.

"An overdose of Drebbo's Pinch isn't usually fatal," Fal told Zeb as she settled down next to the cot, with the med kit. She produced a sensor and placed it on Kallus' finger and a nano-IV cuff around his wrist. "It can cause delirium for up to a week, though, which isn't pretty. Drebbo's been down the Tooka-hole a couple of times."

"What sort of a drug is it?" Zeb asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Fal answered, "but Drebbo says its some kind of memory-enhancer. As far as I can tell from what he's babbled out, it works on the memory-center of the brain, super-charging the neurons and forming some kind of connection between that and the center for processing sight and sound. At low doses, a person's memory becomes so sharp they practically see what they're trying to remember. At higher doses, you actually start reliving memories. Of course, that's how it works on Lasat. I have no idea what it does to a Human."

"Great," Zeb said bitterly, "and Drebbo gave him a massive dose. There any kind of counter to it?"

"Well, when I found out Drebbo was using Pinch, I went scouring the surface for any information I could find. I found a counter to it in the records of the Guard's Drug and Alcohol Abuse Taskforce. I managed to get my hands on a bit of the antidote, but, again, it's meant for Lasat."

Zeb took all of this in and pondered for a moment, looking at Kallus with worry. Whatever memory he was caught up in, it obviously wasn't pleasant. Kallus had been a loyal and trusted part of the Empire for most of his life. There was no telling what he had seen. And with what he had been through so recently in order to defect to the Rebels, with all of the investigation and reevaluation he had been doing, it had to be even worse.

"Well, if we're going to get everyone out of here, I'm gonna need his help. We don't have the time to wait for the effects to wear off," Zeb decided, "besides, I can't just let him stay like this. Not for days."

"Can't we?" Fal bit out. "After everything he's done, maybe he deserves a few bad memories torturing him for a while."

"Are you serious?" Zeb asked, utterly scandalized. "Look at him!"

"All I see is a man who ordered T-7 ion disruptors to be used on the civilian population," Fal replied, bitterly, "I'm having a hard time believing that he, of all people, is the Fulcrum who reached out offering help."

"Look, I get it," said Zeb, "I was surprised too, believe me. And I'm the one who did the recruiting... accidentally... sort of. But he's not that man, anymore. He risked everything as a double-agent for months and he only barely made it out. In fact, I get the impression he wasn't expecting to make it out alive."

Fal remained obstinate, crossing her arms and glaring out the side of her eye at the both of them.

"All right, fine," said Zeb, "if you won't do it for who he is, then do it for who you are. Last I checked, torture wasn't a part of the Lasat Warrior Way or the Oath of the Honor Guard. If you're so sure that people don't change, then you better prove to me that you haven't."

Fal sighed, in the back of her throat so that it was almost a growl. Finally, relenting, she pulled a dose of the antidote and inserted it into Kallus' IV. "Like I said, I can't promise how he'll react to this," she said, "as far as I know, neither Pinch nor its antidote have ever been used on a Human before. But you'd better tell me how you ended up all buddy-buddy with a murderer."

"That's fair enough," Zeb replied, "have you ever heard of a moon over Geonosis called Bahryn?"

* * *

It was the most unsettling, most vivid form of lucid dreaming Kallus had ever experienced. Well, he gave it the name lucid dreaming because he didn't know what else to call it, but he didn't have control over it or anything. But at some point, he realized that what he was seeing was not happening just at that very moment; they were memories. He didn't remember these experiences being this horrific, though.

Something kept drawing his attention to the peripheries, as if accentuating the wider context that he had overlooked before. How had he not seen the effects he had been a party to causing? How had he not known?

 _Good questions,_  Zeb's voice echoed,  _chase the answers_.

And he had. Out of spite, at first, to prove Zeb wrong. He still didn't have all of the answers, but he had some. That was enough. It was more than enough.

At some point, the visions faded and he felt a sense of actual rest. It wasn't good rest, but it was rest. He wasn't sure if it was a few minutes or a few hours, but he didn't care. However long it was, it was heavenly to be feeling nothing of time, nothing of memory.

Kallus floated up out of oblivion slowly. He became aware of a pounding in his head first and that was followed by a general feeling of heaviness in his entire body. He felt warm at first, and then outright hot. By the time he was able to pry his eyes open, he became aware of a slight sweating all over. There wasn't a lot of light in the room where he was and that was probably a good thing, considering that it just made his head throb more.

He must have moved and made some sort of a sound because Zeb's purple, hairy face was hovering over him a minute later.

"Hey, you back with us?" the Lasat asked. "How are you feeling?"

"I have the worst headache," Kallus replied, slowly, "what did that little Neimoidian roach do to me?"

"Some kind of psychotropic that works on the memory," Zeb replied, offering Kallus a hand to help him sit up. "It hit you pretty hard. And the antidote was no picnic, either. It induced a fever for a while."

Swinging his legs over the side of the cot on which he had apparently been placed, Kallus took a long moment to gather himself togehter. "How long was I under?" he asked.

"About five hours," said Zeb, "I've been making use of the time, though, meeting the locals."

"You found them, then?"

"Yes, he did," another voice came from the lit entryway to the little shack, a woman, sounding not entirely welcoming, to say the least. "Fulcrum." She spit out the last word almost like an invective as she came forward. She had a distinctly judging look in her eye.

"Alexsandr Kallus, Zimraphal Reffallion," Zeb made introductions, "formerly a Lieutenant of the High Honor Guard. She's more or less in charge around here. She's the one who sent the message for Fulcrum."

Kallus stared at the Lasat woman for a long stretch. The image of the Lasat Honor Guard leading fleeing civilians down a hidden passage in the marketplace flashed before him. But where the look in her eyes had been sad and horrified that day, now he saw only anger.

"You were there," he said to her, "in the marketplace when-"

"When you killed my lover?" she snapped, moving to loom over him menacingly. "Yes, I was there."

A heavy, tense silence fell upon the room for a long moment. Kallus' heart stopped in his chest and he felt his gaze caught up in hers. They were locked together like that, each daring the other to make a move. Somehow, Kallus found that he couldn't.

"Okay, uh," Zeb put in, sounding distinctly uncomfortable, "she didn't tell me that part..."

"I won't bother to apologize," Kallus said, plunging forward as if Zeb wasn't even there.

"Because you feel no remorse?" Fal bit back.

"No," Kallus replied with regret, "because you can't apologize to the dead."

Something about that seemed to strike a nerve on Fal. Her glare deepened and her jaw ground together for a moment before she abruptly turned and stalked back out of the shack. Freed of her stare, Kallus released a breath and dropped his gaze to the floor, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"I'd remind you not to go there again," Zeb said after a considerable silence, "but I think that ship's already gone to hyperspace."

"What are the odds, do you suppose?" Kallus mused. "A thousand to one, a million?"

"A billion," Zeb agreed, settling down to sit on the cot next to him.

"Perhaps it was reckless of me to come with you," said Kallus, "my presence may put this mission at risk."

"No, I'd rather have you here," said Zeb, "with Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine off helping Clan Wren and Hera busy with the Alliance, I wouldn't trust anyone else with this."

"Ah," Kallus remarked with a crooked smirk, "so I was last on your list, then. I suppose I'll take comfort in the fact that I was on it at all."

Zeb gave a loud, deep laugh. "You should. I don't trust  _myself_  enough to be on it." Kallus gave a full smile at that, understanding exactly what Zeb meant. "But I would have asked you to come along anyway, even if the others were around," Zeb continued, "you deserved that much."

Kallus gave a bitter laugh. "Perhaps you should ask Miss Reffallion what I deserve," he said.

"All right, enough of that," Zeb ordered, getting to his feet again and putting his hands on his hips. "that's enough pity party for now. We've got work to do figuring out how we're going to get ten Lasat off-world with nothing but a two-man A-Wing trainer."

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Kallus hauled himself to his feet. "You're right," he agreed, "let's go figure this out."

"That's more like it," Zeb said, resting a hand on Kallus' shoulder as they exited Fal's shack. "I was thinking if we can find an old shuttle somewhere or maybe get our hands on one of Thrawn's, then we can-"

The beginnings of Zeb's plan were abruptly interrupted when something metallic hit the ground at their feet just as they exited. Looking down, Kallus saw a vibroblade, still polished and ready for battle. Looking up, he found Fal looking at him with her bo-rifle in hand.

"Pick it up," she commanded.

"Apparently, we haven't had  _quite_  enough of that," Kallus mumbled to Zeb with some uncertainty.

"Where'd you get a vibroblade?" Zeb asked.

"It's his," Fal snapped back, jerking her chin in Kallus' direction, "so, like I said." With a snap of her wrist, her bo-rifle unfolded to its hand-to-hand configuration. "Pick it up."

"Fal, we don't have the time for this," Zeb said, beginning to move forward to place himself between the two of them.

But Kallus put out and arm to stop him, not saying a word, leveling a steady gaze on Fal. It was most likely sheer surprise that actually made Zeb stop, but he could analyze that later. Not moving his eyes off of Fal, Kallus calmly moved toward her slowly, stepping over the vibroblade and ignoring it completely.

"No," he said.

"A coward then," she spat back at him.

"No," he replied, "but I will not fight you."

Fal pounded the end of her bo-rifle on the ground, activating a blue crackling electricity that skittered over the ends of the staff. "Then I'll kill you."

"Then you will kill me," Kallus stated, "but I have done enough to your people. I will not fight you. If justice is what you need to move past this and help your people, then do it. Most of the rest of the galaxy would consider it a service."

Fal gave a primal roar, raising her crackling bo-rifle over her head, preparing to bring it down upon Kallus' head. But still she paused and still Kallus did not make a move.

"Do it!" he shouted at her.

Letting out another roar, Fal brought the bo-rifle down at full force. But it did not come down on Kallus' head. Instead, it missed him by only an inch, the blue electricity-leaden blade embedding itself in the worn brick of the floor, causing it to explode out and leave a large pockmark. After a pause, during which their eyes remained locked on each other, she withdrew the blade and deactivated the electricity.

"Your life for that of my people," she growled at him.

"That was the intent from the moment I sent the transmission," Kallus replied, "but, you have my word. To get your people to safety, my life is forfeit."

"To work, then," Fal said just before turning and walking away.

Zeb was at Kallus' shoulder a moment later. "You're gonna give me a karking coronary, you know that?"

* * *

Fal insisted that there were no operational Lasat craft left on the planet; none space-worthy at any rate. She had spent years scouring the surface to find something, anything, that could take the survivors to safety, but found nothing in all that time. In the end, she had abandoned the effort, figuring that staying concealed underground on Lasan was just about as safe for them as going anywhere else in the galaxy.

But now Thrawn was forcing the issue. Lasan was no longer safe for them and that meant they had to leave. And that meant getting their hands on an Imperial craft.

Zeb, Kallus, and Fal ventured up to the surface again, hoping to get some idea of where Thrawn had everything staged and what sort of opportunities they might have to purloin a hyperspace-capable shuttle. The wind had picked up again, hampering their ability to navigate the city ruins. But, it also served to help them remain undetected.

Zeb would have preferred to make the recon trip with only one of his two companions. The tension between Kallus and Fal was palpable and it seemed liable to shatter into a million pieces at any moment. But, when he had originally suggested a two-man recon, both of them had insisted that they should be the second man. Fal insisted that she knew the terrain best and would be able to get them around the city more safely. Kallus had countered that Fal was ten years out of date on Imperial craft and operations and wouldn't necessarily know what would be the best option to try and steal. The argument had resulted in a shouting match which wasn't helped at all when Drebbo jumped in, suggesting that Kallus and Fal be the two-man team in order to get the best of both worlds. Fal had refused, at the top of her lungs, and Kallus had said nothing, obviously unable to blame her for her feelings in the matter.

So the only viable solution was for all three of them to go and for Zeb to play baby-sitter to the both of them. Needless to say, it tested his patience. But there was one saving grace; the increased wind and the dust it was blowing around kept any bickering to a minimum.

Fal led them through the city ruins, keeping to the shadows and the out-of-the-way places. It took them nearly an hour to make their way to the west side, near the Empire's temporary base of operations. They slipped into a hollowed out shell of a building that still had a stable second floor, where they could look out over the camp and still stay under some semblance of cover.

"All right," Fal grunted out as they all crouched down looking out of blasted out windows, "I did my part and got us here without being seen. Time for  _Fulcrum_  to do his part." She said the code name, almost spitting it out as if it were a dirty word.

Kallus was already on it, pulling out a pair of binoculars and sweeping it over the camp efficiently. He had settled into a stoic, frighteningly focused, downright  _Imperial_  sort of demeanor. If he noticed the tone Fal had used, he didn't show it.

Zeb made a mental note not to play Sabacc with the man. Ever.

"There are several troop transports, probably down from the  _Chimaera_ , Kallus said, "if we can infiltrate the camp and get our hands on one of those, it should be large enough to get everyone off world and fast enough to slip past a star destroyer."

"What are our prospects for that?' Zeb asked.

"Stand by," Kallus said, still moving the binoculars over the camp, sweeping around the perimeter. "Security is tight," he finally reported after a long moment, "definitely Thrawn's work. He's left very little to chance."

"If we got a hold of a set of Stormtrooper armor, do you think you could make a convincing trooper?" Zeb asked, waving off Fal's protests before she had a chance to voice them.

Kallus gave a short, smug laugh. "Garazeb, don't insult me. After all, Kanan and Rex can pull it off. I, on the other hand, can impersonate a trooper in my sleep."

"Because you  _are_  one," Fal muttered under her breath. Zeb shot her a withering look.

"But I don't think a mere Stormtrooper will suffice," Kallus went on, as if oblivious to the jab, "it looks as though Thrawn has the Death-troopers in charge of shuttle security. They're probably the pilots as well."

"Death-troopers?" Fal asked, setting aside her previous snark in favor of a note of alarm.

"You wouldn't have seen them," Zeb explained, "they just came about in the last three years or so. Elite troopers, under the direct command of high-ranking officers, like Thrawn. They're harder to impersonate, though. All sorts of daily code words and kark."

"But, if you  _can_  impersonate one, you are almost guaranteed to be able to infiltrate a temporary outpost such as this," Kallus said.

"And I suppose you can impersonate one of  _them_  in your sleep, too," Fal bit out.

"Naturally," Kallus replied and Zeb thought her detected a tiny amount of sarcasm in his tone. "Besides, I'm the only one who can fit in the armor."

Fal gave a sigh. "I don't like the idea of sending him in alone," she ground out.

"Your concern is touching," Kallus replied, allowing the sarcasm to flow freely now, directing a bit of a glare back at her, over his shoulder.

"It's not  _you_  I'm concerned about, it's us."

"All right, enough of that," Zeb snapped, interrupting the argument before it could begin. "It's the best plan we got. Let's go see if we can lure one of them away from the camp. I feel like playing Whack-a-Bucket."

"We might have another problem," Kallus said, returning his attention to the binoculars and the sight below them, "Miss Reffallion, how deep underground is your peoples' camp?"

"About four stories or so," she replied, "why?"

"That is why," Kallus stated, handing the binoculars to Zeb and indicating a spot below them.

Zeb peered through the binoculars, focusing their gaze on the area that Kallus had indicated. There was a Stormtrooper sitting in the seat of some sort of mobile unit, working its controls. It had a large dish attached to its front, concave side pointed down to parallel the ground.

"That is a thermal scanner," Kallus explained, "it can detect the heat signatures of living beings down to 3 kilometers below the surface of a planet. Once they begin a systematic search using that, it will only be a matter of time before your people are found."

"Bogan's bastards," Fal swore, "that's  _just_  what we need."

Zeb continued to watch the trooper who was working the scanner as Kallus explained. For a moment, the trooper looked puzzled by something. Then he reached over to the side of the control console and gave it a firm whack, before turning back to a commander to speak. Zeb couldn't hear what he said, but the commander came over straight away to look over the trooper's shoulder.

And then the trooper pointed directly at their position.

"Uh, do those things detect heat signatures above ground, too?" Zeb asked.

"Of course," Kallus replied.

"Then I think we've been made." The Stormtrooper commander was now raising his own set of binoculars to look in their direction. After a moment, he, too, turned his head and called to someone behind him. A jolt snapped up Zeb's spine as he saw Thrawn round the corner into view to hear the report. "Time to move! Now!"

Neither Kallus nor Fal needed to be told twice. They both took off hot on Zeb's heels, making for the back entrance of the ruined building through which they had entered. It wasn't long before the loud whine of speeder engines grew in their ears.

"We need cover!" Kallus called. "Now!"

"Follow me!" Fal shouted back, taking the lead and vaulting over a gap in a ruined wall. On the other side, she fell into a slide down a long section of plasteel that had once been a part of some large skyscraper in the area. It led down to the lower section of an old speederway overpass.

As Zeb and Kallus slid down after her, blaster bolts rained down around them from above. They all three just managed to roll under the edge of the broken bridge before the troopers above found their range. Zeb pulled out his bo-rifle and brought it to bear, returning fire with a few shots and then ducking back under cover.

"They've got us pinned!" he exclaimed.

"Hold your fire," a calm voice commanded from above. The blaster bolts finally stopped their relentless assault. Zeb and Kallus looked to each other, giving grim nods. There was only one person who could have given that order. "You've no where to run, Rebels," Thrawn called down to them, "there is little point in prolonging this."

Zeb was about to shout a snarky response, but Kallus held out a hand and signaled for quiet. With a glance, he communicated to Zeb what he was thinking.  _He's baiting us._  Zeb gave a nod on acknowledgement.

"No snappy comeback?" Thrawn went on. "I see you've brought a sense a decorum to the rebellion, Kallus. But even you have your limits. I'll just need to work a little harder to get your attention."

And then just beyond the edge of their cover, a blast larger than those of the troopers' blaster bolts ripped into the ground, yellow energy sending dust and dirt into the air and leaving a pock-mark in the ground.

"I know that blast," Kallus whispered, his eyes going dark and cold in fury.

"Still nothing to say?" Thrawn taunted, loosing another blast near them. It had a familiar-sounding tang to the shot, like a spring breaking.

"Wait, that's not..." Zeb muttered.

"It is," said Kallus, struggling to keep his voice low, "Thrawn is using my bo-rifle!"


	6. Chapter Five

Kallus' blood boiled and it was all he could do not to charge out of their cover, blaster blazing. But Thrawn was using exactly the type of tactic Kallus had been trained to use by the ISB. There was little doubt in his mind that Thrawn was using it to try and get under his skin. But apparently, the Chiss had underestimated Kallus' ability to keep his tactical skill among the more rowdy Rebels. His hands tensed around his blaster, but he still did not respond.

Thrawn unleashed several more blasts from the bo-rifle, sending Kallus, Zeb, and Fal deeper back into their tiny bit of cover.

"We can't just sit here all day!" Fal growled.

"We need a diversion," Kallus ground out, "Zeb?"

"Used the last of my grenades getting away from those troopers at the transit station," Zeb replied.

"Well, in that case," Kallus muttered, "if Thrawn wants a fight..."

"Wait," Zeb said, sounding worried, "what are you planning to-"

"Go!" Kallus snapped.

And then, before Zeb could get a large paw on him to hold him back, Kallus pulled his blaster and sprinted out of their little piece of cover, firing covering shots at the Stormtroopers who were now renewing their efforts.

"Meet me where we came up!" Kallus shouted back to the two Lasat who were watching him leave. Zeb seemed as though he was about to come after Kallus, but Fal held him back, motioning him the opposite direction.

As Kallus had hoped, not even Thrawn could resist the prospects of re-capturing a traitor to the Empire. He personally began chasing after Kallus, bringing half of his contingent of troopers with him, leaving the others to chase after Zeb and Fal. The chaos of that split was just what Kallus had hoped for. He darted from rubble pile to ruined building, just narrowly avoiding blasts and threading his way through the Stormtroopers' drilled-in containment patterns. He knew exactly how to get around them. Sithspit! He had  _designed_  half of them!

It was nearly two city blocks from where he had left Zeb and Fal that Kallus finally saw his chance. He allowed one of the troopers to get in a little closer to him, making it look like he was about to go one way, then circling back around to come up on the trooper from behind. Kallus launched himself at the trooper's back, wrapping an arm around his neck, pressing in on the one spot in the trooper's armor where the neck rubbed against the wearer's throat, pinching off the trooper's windpipe and carotid artery. It was only a few moments before the trooper was on the ground in an unconscious heap.

Kallus was just about to move on when he spotted a folded electro-staff on the trooper's belt. Quickly, he scooped it up before breaking into a run again. Taking corners at random as he went, it was several blocks before he was confident enough that he had managed to evade the troopers. At last, he was able to turn back toward the direction he was to meet up with Zeb and Fal once again.

And then, something occurred to him; that had been too easy. Much too easy for an opponent such as Thrawn.

Kallus stopped, ducking into an alley way that was littered with rubble and ducking behind a large piece to give himself time to stop and think. He had seen Thrawn take half of the Stormtroopers with him to follow Kallus at the outset. That much was certain. But Kallus had moved to evade their sight immediately, meaning he hadn't seen much of the troopers himself. Other than the one he had rendered unconscious, he hadn't actually  _seen_  any of them since the initial chase. And Thrawn would know that Kallus knew the troopers' search patterns and would move to counter that.

Unless he wasn't using the troopers to chase him, after all.

"Appealing to my vanity," Thrawn's calm voice sounded from the entry to the alley way, "not a bad tactic, if a perhaps a little... improvised. But you, of all rebels, should know that vanity matters little to me. Yours, on the other hand, seems to be perfectly in tact." Kallus heard a familiar clatter of metal and hum of electricity a moment later. He could almost see himself unfolding his bo-rifle in his mind's eye. "There are no other troopers here," Thrawn went on, "I sent them to hunt down your two compatriots. It is only you and me."

A challenge, then. Well, he didn't have any real options to speak of anyway. It was a dead end and Kallus didn't have Zeb's climbing skills to get him out of it.

"A rematch, then," Kallus called back, unfolding the electro-staff he had pilfered and slowly coming out from behind his cover, "it would seem vanity is, in fact, alive and well in both of us. Upset that I managed to escape you on Atollon?"

"Disappointed in Pryce, actually," Thrawn purred, "she allowed herself to be played by a known player. You put pressure on her frustrations, knowing that she would act to remove the stressor. Once you were away from the bridge of the  _Chimaera_ , you knew it would be child's play to get away. Yularen taught you quite well, in that regard."

Kallus was tired of the back-and-forth already. Talking was what Thrawn did. He chose his own moments to fight and did everything he could to keep his opponent from choosing them for him.

"That belongs to me," Kallus growled, indicating the bo-rifle in Thrawn's hands.

"By virtue of the  _Boosahn Keeraw_ , I understand," Thrawn agreed, "are you aware that you are the only non-Lasat ever to be honored in such a way?"

"I am. And you're talking too much again." The two of them began to circle each other, each looking for an opening in which to strike.

"An interesting weapon, the bo-rifle," Thrawn went on, pointedly not rising to Kallus' attempt at a taunt, "utilitarian enough to seem like a simple weapon to the untrained. Yet to those in the know, it has an almost ritualistic quality to it. The traditions surrounding it suggest that it is more than a mere weapon. I wonder if even your Lasat friends understand why they are used in the way they are."

Kallus didn't reply to that, instead keeping his concentration on the fight; where the weight was on Thrawn's feet, the way he was holding the weapon, whether he was tensed to strike or biding his time.

"But at least some of this has to have occurred to you," Thrawn continued, "else you would not be so enraged that I have it. I would be quite interested to know just how much research you did on this weapon."

Kriff, but he was laying it on thick! Kallus had never seen Thrawn throw out this much verbal bait before. He had to admit, it was tempting to grab for it. But he kept his tongue firmly behind his teeth, staring down the Chiss.

"Still nothing to say? Disappointing. You used to be a much better conversationalist. Perhaps later, then. You are well aware of the ways the Empire has of making people-"

And then Thrawn's monologue was cut off by the sudden appearance of two purple blurs dropping down between them from above with a pair of primal roars. Everything was in motion again in an instant as Kallus realized that Zeb and Fal had come to find him and were now taking on Thrawn in his place, purple and blue and yellow energies crackling around the ends of the three bo-rifles as they flashed.

The unexpected backup seemed to have surprised Thrawn as much as it had surprised Kallus. Against the onslaught, the Chiss could do little but retreat back out of the alleyway, fending off blows as fast as he could. As soon as he was back in the open street again, he spun off to his right, distancing himself from Fal and parrying an attack from Zeb as he moved to put more space between them. Kallus knew the best thing was to move in at Zeb's elbow to interrupt the flanking maneuver, but he was still in the alley and there wasn't enough space for him to get by the two Lasat. Consequently, Thrawn gained the distance he needed.

"All troopers, converge on my location!" he snapped into a commlink in the seconds-long pause he had eked out. Then, he went back to fighting his retreating action as Zeb and Fal continued to advance on him.

Kallus finally had enough space to get out into the street and join the line at Zeb's left, electro-staff in hand. It was lighter than his bo-rifle and didn't pack quite the punch, but at least he could use it in a similar fashion. And maybe, just maybe, he might be able to get his own weapon back again.

But no sooner had Kallus joined the line, that tiny thought on his mind, that the tables turned again. The grating whine of TIE-fighters approached, sending the four combatants scattering. Thrawn fell back in full retreat, leaving more space between himself and the other three. The sound of blaster bolts strafing the ground and coming toward them was just beginning when Fal turned to both Kallus and Zeb and bull-rushed them toward a nearby open window in what had once been a store front. All three of them tumbled through, landing on the debris-strewn floor in a tangle of limbs. Fal was back on her feet first and was prodding both Zeb and Kallus up and toward the back of the building.

"Go! Go! Go!" she urged them on.

An old broken door resting jauntily on a loose set of hinges seemed to be her target. With one swift kick, Zeb broke it open the rest of the way so they could get through. Behind the building, a dried up old canal opened up in front of them, dust swirling in the winds. Leading the way, Fal slid down the tilted side and took off at a run down its length. Kallus and Zeb needed no prompting to follow. Above, they could hear the TIE-fighters coming back around for another run.

Kallus was pulled off his feet the next moment and found himself careening toward an overhanging lip at the side of the canal. Fal had bodily grabbed him and shoved him toward it, pushing Zeb along with them and sliding under the tiny bit of cover after them both.

"The grate!" she exclaimed, looking over at Zeb.

Zeb was already on it, swinging his bo-rifle toward a rusted out old sewer grate like a battering ram. The already weakened metal shattered under the blow. Then, all three of them piled in and went sliding down a long drain of duracrete and into a darkened tunnel underneath the streets of the city once again. Fal continued on, sprinting down the tunnel that was now lit only by the glow from their weapons.

"I told you to go!" Kallus snapped at Zeb.

"Yeah, but I didn't listen!" Zeb replied in kind. "What are you going to do about it?"

Kallus couldn't help but laugh. He and Thrawn had both been so wrapped up in playing each other that they had completely disregarded the Lasats' unpredictability. As a result, Thrawn had set a trap for prey that didn't wander into it and Kallus had unintentionally kept the one person who could have figured that out from noticing.

The irony was just thick.

* * *

Fal wasted no time when they got back to the underground settlement. Within minutes, she had all of her people mobilized, packing up what they absolutely could not leave behind, getting ready to flee. She got them so busy doing all of this, Zeb noticed, that none of them had taken note of the fact that they didn't actually have a plan yet. It was a little surprising to him that Kallus hadn't seemed to have noticed, either. He was usually able to pick up on details like that. But the sour, despondent, enraged look on his face told Zeb everything he needed to know about why he hadn't.

The weight of his own bo-rifle felt heavier than normal in his hands. But that didn't seem to compare at all to the weight Kallus seemed to be feeling of his own weapon's absence. Zeb regretted having to add to it, but there was no choice.

There was a secret that needed to be kept. At any cost.

When Fal finally stopped to take a breath, Zeb got her attention and quietly said that he needed to talk to both her and Kallus.

"What could possibly be more important than getting our people out of here?" she snapped. When Zeb had responded with only silence and a deep, stony stare, she had sobered and then motioned to her own small dwelling.

Kallus, in comparison, meekly followed along, looking blasted and a little bewildered. He seemed content to let the Lasat figure out their own course of action.

"Fal, I hate to say it, but we have a bigger problem then getting everyone out of here," Zeb began without preamble, "you saw the weapon Thrawn was carrying?"

"I did," Fal bit out, sending a bit of a glare in Kallus' direction.

"Well... the thing is... we need to get it back," Zeb said, hesitantly, "as quick as we can."

Kallus snapped into full attention at that. He held up a hand to halt the discussion. "Zeb, I appreciate your concern for my pride, but that is hardly of any comparison to the safety of your people."

"And I say the Imp's pride can kriffing go kark itself!" Fal exclaimed. "We don't have time for that garbage."

"Don't call him an Imp!" Zeb shot back. "He's a Rebel. Period. End of story."

"Walks like and Imp, talks like an Imp," Fal replied, "gives up priceless cultural items to the Empire like an Imp. Sounds like an Imp to me."

"He didn't  _give up_  the bo-rifle!"

"Oh yeah? What do you call it?"

"Narrowly escaping with his life!"

Kallus pushed his way in between the two arguing Lasat, prying them apart so as to get their attention once again. "Zeb, enough!" he shouted over them. "Stop trying to convince her that I am some kind of hero. No one but you is buying it. My honor is sullied enough. Losing the bo-rifle is hardly worth mentioning, at this point! Not when we have your people to-"

"They're the same thing!" Zeb shouted back at the both of them, so adamantly that neither of them could ignore the tone or frame a response. "That bo-rifle is key to the safety of these Lasat and thousands more!"

"Aren't you being a little dramatic?" Fal asked.

"Lira San!' a voice exclaimed from the entrance to Fal's home. All three of them looked and found Drebbo pushing back the blanket over the door and entering. He held his hands up reverently as he came closer. "The Child has shown the path! As the Ancients used the bo-rifle, so has the Child! And Lira San was revealed!"

Drebbo stopped a few feet away from the trio, striking a dramatic pose. Zeb, Kallus, and Fal all looked at him in silence for a long moment. Fal looked at Drebbo, then to Zeb, back to Drebbo again, as if waiting for Zeb to tell the crazy Lasat to stop talking nonsense. And then Zeb didn't.

And then Fal started laughing.

"That old kit's tale?" she exclaimed through fits of laughter. "Oh, that's a good one!"

In response, Zeb took his own bo-rifle off its holder on his back and unfolded it to its staff form. And then, after a dramatic pause, folded back the last armatures into the most ancient and seldom-used form. The energy at its top began crackling, resembling more of a wizard's staff than a weapon. He held it out to Fal, looking deadly serious.

She still laughed a little longer. Finally, she caught sight of Zeb's completely serious demeanor.

"Oh, now I  _know_  you're out of your mind," she said to Zeb, "first, palling around with this butcher," she indicated Kallus, "and now this? You're crazier than Drebbo!"

"Can someone fill me in, please?" Kallus asked, putting a hand to the bridge of his nose to rub away a headache.

"There was always an old story," Zeb explained, "about the bo-rifle. When a Guardsman took his oath of service, it referenced it. The most ancient weapon of the Lasat people, to be held by the most loyal and trusted of our people, 'to guard the ancient hidden path and lead us home in our time of need.' That's what the oath said. And it's a lot more literal than any Guardsman alive today ever thought. Lira San's real, Fal. I've seen it."

"So... hidden planet, treasured of the Lasat," she said.

"Yup."

"Protected by a deadly maze?"

"It's a nebula of horrific, in-navigable gravity wells, but yeah."

"The path to which can only be revealed by the Child who has saved the Fool and the Warrior, blah, blah, blah?"

"With the bo-rifle, as the Ancients used it," Zeb confirmed. "It isn't just a weapon. It's a map. Embedded in the energy signature of every bo-rifle handed down from generation to generation of Guardsmen."

"Yes, yes!" Drebbo put in, oh-so-helpfully. "Chava the Wise always said it! Few believed, but Drebbo does! He does! And Drebbo was right!"

"Holy karking poodoo," Fal breathed, taking her own bo-rifle off her back and unfolding it, "and I've just been carrying this thing around for years?"

"Feels a bit heavier now, 'eh?" Zeb asked.

"Zeb," Kallus broke in, dread coloring his tone, "this map. It's in the energy signature of  _every_  bo-rifle? Including... mine?"

With regret, unable to meet Kallus' gaze, Zeb nodded once. A crushing weight looked like it dropped down on top of Kallus' shoulders. He went a little pale, a hand clamping over his mouth as he took a few unsteady steps away from the group to lean against the wall.

"Thrawn cannot be allowed to keep it," Kallus stated, sounding shaken, "if anyone in the Empire is capable of unlocking this secret, it will be Thrawn! We  _must_  get it back before that happens!"

"I know," Zeb agreed.

A dread silence fell over the room as all four of them pondered the problem. It stretched on, seeming as though it would last for hours, deepening with every breath. Then, like the first strike of lightning at the beginning of a thunderstorm, Kallus pulled back a fist and struck the metal wall against which he was leaning, sending a reverberation through it that made all three Lasat jump. Then with clear anger and revulsion on his face, he stormed out of Fal's home, throwing back the blanket over the door as he went.

"The Bogan is speaking to him again," Drebbo said, sounding sad, "not many can bear such cruelty. Not even the Fool."

"Kallus!" Zeb called, trailing after the Human as soon as he had gathered his wits.

Kallus didn't even acknowledge Zeb's pursuit. Instead he continued to stalk across the cavernous space of the settlement, making for the entrance. As he went, he pulled out his blaster and checked the charge in its power cell. He seemed to decide there wasn't enough juice left in it and hit the release angrily, letting it clatter to the ground as he jammed a fresh one in. Zeb stooped to scoop up the discarded cell, picking up his pace and catching up with Kallus just outside the entrance and a few yards down the tunnel that led toward the surface.

"Kallus, wait!" he commanded, bringing a hand down on the Human's shoulder trying to halt him.

"Do  _not_  try to stop me, Zeb!" Kallus roared, spinning around to him and throwing off the grasp.

"What are you gonna do, charge in there, blaster blazing?" Zeb pressed. "You'll just get yourself killed! Or worse!"

"Worse?!" Kallus raged, "Worse?! What could possibly be worse than being responsible for a genocide  _all over again_?!"

"That's not what this is," Zeb shot back, "you're  _not_  responsible!"

"Am I not? I always  _knew_  the bo-rifle was more than a simple weapon."

"You didn't know about this. Not even other Lasat knew!"

"Whether through willful malevolence or ignorant carelessness, responsibility is responsibility. And in both cases it falls upon me! Me, alone! No one else!" All at once, Kallus' energy seemed to abandon him and he collapsed against the tunnel wall. "This is my punishment," he said, "my curse; to know the depth of every evil thing I have done and have everything I do to be a better man turn to ash." His legs seemed to give out from under him and he slid down the wall to sit on the ground in a miserable heap, despondent and hopeless.

"Not gonna happen," Zeb stated, planting himself on the ground next to Kallus, "I won't let it happen. I've been down this hole. For years, I let it eat me alive. I didn't save Lasan. I failed, all of that bantha crap. It took Kanan jumping down in the hole with me and leading me out. I asked him why, once. He said, he'd been down it, too, and knew the way out because Hera'd showed him. And I get it now. That's how this works. Someone shows you the way out of the hole, then you go back in to get someone else out. Because that's the only way any of it means a damn. So I'm jumping down in there with you."

"I don't  _want_  you to," Kallus breathed.

"Not your call," Zeb replied, "so get used to it. I'm the one holding the star-chart, here. And so help me, you're going to follow it."

* * *

It was only an hour later that they had a plan. It was desperate, crazy, and not likely to work. But they didn't have time to come up with anything else. The other Lasat needed to be on the move, evading the Empire's thermal scanners. And they couldn't wait any longer.

Kallus claimed the riskiest part of the plan for himself; sneaking into the camp under the cover of an attack from their A-Wing, grabbing the bo-rifle, and then spiriting away on one of the shuttles there. Zeb hadn't liked the idea, worried that Kallus was trying to somehow do penance for having left the bo-rifle behind in the first place. But Kallus wouldn't hear it, saying that he was the logical choice, as it would be easier for a human to go unnoticed in the midst of the chaos of an attack and he was the one who knew best how to fly an Imperial shuttle. There was little argument to be had against that.

And so, Kallus had left the settlement for the last time by himself, creeping his way through the city ruins using a crude map that Fal had drawn up. Using his knowledge of Stormtrooper patrol practices, he was able to get fairly close to the temporary base that had been set up, closer even than they had been hours earlier. One man alone was more stealthy than three.

The place was a flurry of activity. Thankfully, Kallus didn't see any of the thermal scanning units still in camp, so he didn't need to worry about setting any of them off like they had before. It was a bit of a mixed blessing, though, since it meant they were all out looking for the Lasat. Time was short.

Thrawn was there as well, at the center of the activity, taking reports and issuing orders with his normal, unnaturally calm demeanor. Kallus noted that he did not have the bo-rifle with him. That would make it much easier to grab it.

"Hmm, Drebbo wouldn't want to walk in there!"

The tiny voice had sounded inches away from Kallus' right ear, making him jump and spin around, already letting a fist fly. Somehow, Drebbo managed to dodge it, ducking down and dancing aside, and Kallus' blow met only air. But when Kallus saw who it was, he changed tactics again, shoving Drebbo back behind an out of the way chunk of ruined wall.

"Drebbo, what are you doing here?!" he exclaimed, desperately keeping his voice as low as he could. "You're supposed to be waiting with Reffallion and the others!"

"Drebbo was worried this one would be lost," the crazy Lasat replied, "the Bogan can be very deceptive. And this one insists on listening to it, still. The Fool needs to know, the Ashla speaks more truly." He wagged a finger at Kallus as if he was teaching a lesson to a small child.

"I don't believe this," Kallus lamented, dropping his face into his hand, "Zeb is going to start the attack any moment. I don't have time to take you back to the others."

"That's fine," Drebbo said with an innocent shrug, "Drebbo meant to go along with this one. The Fool who listens to the Bogan and doesn't watch his back needs someone to do it for him."

"No, Drebbo, you are not coming with me," Kallus commanded, "you will stay right here until I come to get you."

"But-"

"No buts!"

"I have one, you have one..."

"Drebbo!" Kallus implored, holding on to both of the Lasat's shoulders. "Promise me you will remain right here!"

Drebbo gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. "Drebbo thinks this one is an idiot as well as a Fool," he muttered, "but fine, Drebbo promise." Covering his heart with his right hand, he held up his left, palm out, sounding for all the world like a petulant child.

Hearing the report of the A-Wing's blaster cannon somewhere in the distance, Kallus realized that he had extracted the promise just in time. There was an explosion on one of the outer edges of the camp and a moment later Zeb flew over in the A-Wing, strafing the ground and causing chaos to erupt.

"Right here, Drebbo," Kallus reiterated, "I'll come back for you in a while." Taking out and unfolding his pilfered electro-staff, Kallus turned to the edge of their cover, making ready to leave. That was the moment he heard Drebbo spit his tongue out and blow.

He decided to ignore it. Studiously.

Vowing to himself to give Drebbo a more thorough reaming out when they were all safely aboard the shuttle and away from Lasan, Kallus darted from cover and sprinted toward the edge of the camp. He kept out of the camp's line of sight as best he could while still covering ground. Thankfully, Zeb's attack seemed to have the soldiers all very occupied. Stormtroopers were scrambling about, trying to make their anti-aircraft defenses ready. Several Death-troopers were racing for their craft while a few others crowded around Thrawn, taking up defensive positions. Thrawn himself was barking out orders, a calm eye in the middle of a hurricane.

Kallus skirted around the edge of the camp, avoiding being seen by ducking behind crates and equipment and using the explosions from Zeb's attack as cover for moving from place to place. He had to choose a shuttle that he could make safe for Fal and her group to get on board. He didn't think it would be too hard. A single Death-trooper, frantically going through pre-flight could be surprised from behind easily enough. It was making sure that others outside didn't notice that was the trick.

Kallus was just about to make a move when Thrawn came back into his line of sight again, a single Death-trooper trailing after him. Kallus paused and waited, knowing that the Admiral would need to be elsewhere for him to make his move.

"Trooper!" the Chiss ordered, turning to the Death-trooper. "See that my personal shuttle is made ready! I will blast that fighter from the sky personally, if need be."

"Sir!" the trooper acknowledged, straightening to attention for a moment before turning and heading off in another direction as Thrawn continued on his way.

Thrawn's personal shuttle. That had to be where the bo-rifle was. Maybe he could kill two minocks with one stone. Taking care to ensure that Thrawn's attention was elsewhere, Kallus went after the trooper.

Toward the other end of camp, Kallus could hear the telltale whine of the TIE-fighters taking off and screaming into the air. That was to be Fal's cue to move in and look for the signal they had pre-arranged. His time was fast running out. Overhead, the A-Wing engaged the fighters that were already in the air, still attempting to make strafing runs on the camp as much as he could.

Doggedly, Kallus tracked Thrawn's Death-trooper until he saw him disappear into a waiting shuttle. As soon as the coast was clear, he sprinted toward the open aft hatch and rushed inside, running the length of the shuttle in just a few seconds. The Death-trooper had enough time to turn around looking surprised when Kallus jammed the end of his electro-staff right into the trooper's neck, sending him seizing and then flopping over unconscious.

There. Easy.

Ensuring that the trooper was down for the count, Kallus wrenched the helmet from the trooper's head and ran back to place it just on the edge of the open shuttle hatch. This was the signal that Fal was to look for. It was unusual for a trooper to remove his helmet, particularly in the middle of an attack, so it wasn't likely that there would be another helmet sitting on the edge of an open shuttle. But it was also routine enough that, in the midst of the panic of the attack, no one would notice it.

That accomplished, he set about his other task and began frantically looking through the various storage units and containers that were on the shuttle. Thrawn didn't have the bo-rifle with him, which meant that it was going to be with the rest of the Admiral's personal gear. And all of that was aboard this shuttle. But Kallus was coming up empty on all of the places he searched.

"Are you looking for this?"

Kallus froze as Thrawn's voice seemed to slam into his spine. Thrawn's measured steps could be heard, ringing across the deck as he came forward. Gathering his wits only a moment later, Kallus spun around into a fight stance, electro-staff at the ready.

Thrawn was standing there, looking as calm as if he was reading a troop movement report, the bo-rifle in one hand and unfolded into hand-to-hand mode. Yellow energy crackled at its ends.

"I must say, this is an awful risk to take for a single weapon," Thrawn purred, "is your pride so valuable to you? Or is there more to this weapon than meets the eye?"

Time was critically short, Kallus knew. He had to make the way clear for Fal and the rest of the Lasat. Instead of engaging in Thrawn's verbal sparring, he decided on a much more direct approach.

Kallus charged forward, shifting his hands to one end of the staff and swinging it around toward Thrawn's head. Thrawn calmly gave ground, retreating back off of the open hatch and out onto the dusty ground. Kallus followed him, pressing his attacks, switching from high to low at random. Thrawn deftly avoided each of his blows, either voiding out of the way or parrying with the bo-rifle.

Thrawn liked to choose his moments to attack, Kallus knew. The only way to counter that was to keep him on the defensive and not give him the chance. It had a downside, though. Kallus had to be careful not to set up a pattern that Thrawn could read. That and the pace of the attacks made it both physically and mentally exhausting. Kallus knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for very long.

He must have started to make some kind of a pattern that Thrawn read because all of a sudden, the bo-rifle was meeting every attack, ringing with loud metal-on-metal clangs. Thrawn stopped retreating, apparently having finally chosen the piece of ground he wanted to keep. They came together, their weapons locked in a cross. Kallus felt his muscles strain with the effort of holding back Thrawn's sudden press. But the Chiss still seemed like he was only casually defending the blow.

Dammit, the bastard was letting Kallus wear himself out! He didn't have the moves, he didn't have the speed, he didn't have the strength he needed to take on the Chiss. If this fight continued, there was only one way it could end; the same way it had in the comm tower on Lothal.

The thought of that humiliating defeat sent a surge of fury through Kallus' veins. He dug the balls of his feet into the ground, bending his legs to try to get just a little more leverage. Thrawn responded by casually applying a bit more of his own, leaning into the struggle just enough. That was what Kallus had hoped for. Kallus abruptly dropped to his knees, letting go of the electro-staff with one hand and grabbing onto Thrawn's elbow as the Admiral tumbled forward, thrown off-balance. With a concerted tug, Kallus sent Thrawn tumbling over his back, hoping to send him sprawling on the ground. But by the time Kallus had turned ready to renew an attack, Thrawn had already rolled up on to one knee and was waiting in a defensive pose.

"Unexpected. I see your week with the Rebels has taught you a few things," Thrawn said, calmly getting to his feet as Kallus breathed to catch his breath, "but you know that tricks are no match for a mastery of the fundamentals."

"Do you  _ever_  stop talking?" Kallus bit out.

Thrawn shot forward, swinging the bo-rifle around in an arc meant to catch Kallus in the side. Kallus only just got the electro-staff there to block it.

"I find it passes the time," Thrawn replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Kallus feinted one direction and then spun out from under Thrawn's attack the other, once again moving past the Chiss. He spun around with an attack toward Thrawn's back, but the bo-rifle was already there, sending the electro-staff careening off to one side with a loud clang.

And then, in that moment when the two of them were facing off again, the sky above erupted in a horrible roar. Both of their attention was pulled toward it. When Kallus looked up, he saw a bright orange blossom of fire spreading across the sky, bits of burning shrapnel trailing smoke as they flew in every direction. And then falling through the flames, the distinctive back half of an A-Wing fuselage went spinning toward the ground on the outskirts of the camp.

"Ah, there is that look again," Thrawn said, his tone maddeningly even, "that look of utter shock and defeat. The same one I saw when you realized I had found Atollon. It's been said that not even the Rebels drew out that look on you, yet I seem to conjure it without any effort at all." His gaze landed somewhere over Kallus' shoulder then. "And here we have another setback in as many seconds."

With dread, Kallus risked a look over his shoulder. In the instant that he had to take in the scene, he spotted the blue energy of Fal's bo-rifle, frantically spinning through the air to fend of attacks from several Death-troopers who were closing in. Behind her, the other Lasat all huddled together, frightened and unarmed. Fal was their last line of defense against the Death-troopers.

Kallus swung his attention back to Thrawn just in time to parry an incoming attack. Once again, the bo-rifle locked against the electro-staff and Thrawn pushed his face in close.

"Your air attack has been blown from the sky," the Chiss taunted, "along with your Rebel friend, no doubt. And now the very people you were trying to protect are within my grasp. So many battles to fight. What will you do now?"

Thrawn was right. There were too many fronts on this battle field. Kallus had to make a choice.

"Something that is going to hurt," Kallus ground out in reply.

Before Thrawn could even contemplate those words, Kallus pulled his head back and sent it forward, smashing Thrawn right between his shifty red eyes. Pain exploded across Kallus' forehead as they both went reeling backward, away from each other. The world tilted for a moment as Kallus turned to race toward Fal and the Lasat. But Thrawn did not follow, seemingly even more disoriented than he was.

Fal was being pressed on all sides by three troopers, each wielding vibro-blades. It was a deadly dance of cat-and-mouse even when one didn't have anything to defend. Kallus knew that Fal wouldn't dare moving from her chosen ground, knowing that it would leave the civilian Lasat vulnerable. The three Death-troopers were just making a concerted attack as Kallus came within range, shouting a war cry as he entered the fray.

The first trooper, the one to Fal's left, turned in surprise, making ready to meet Kallus' attack. He was thrown off when Kallus simply wasn't there. Instead, he planted the end of the electro-staff in the ground and pushed off, swinging around behind Fal, feet-first, to collide with the one that had worked its way behind her and was about to strike. The trooper went flying backward into a fragile stone ruin, rock crumbling down on top of him from which he never emerged. This left two troopers for them to take on and it very quickly became two separate fights.

"I don't need your help!" Fal snapped out between attacks and parries.

"Will you pick your battles, already!" Kallus shot back, not caring that he was broadcasting very loudly that he was at the end of his rope. "I'll hold here! Get them aboard!"

Thankfully, Fal seemed to see the sense of it. Letting Kallus take on both Death-troopers, she faded back, folding her bo-rifle into long-range mode. Squeezing off a couple of shots to fend off a few incoming Stormtroopers, she returned to the civilians and began motioning them toward the shuttle that Kallus had cleared.

Kallus fought mainly defense, carefully moving to keep himself and his electro-staff between the Death-troopers and the Lasat. As soon as it was safe enough to do so, he gave ground little by little, retreating toward the open shuttle himself, hoping that Fal would read the situation.

What happened next, Kallus was never entirely sure. From somewhere behind him, he heard a desperate cry of alarm. Then, something warm and vaguely furry slammed into him, knocking him aside. There was the report of a blaster and the sudden smell of burning flesh. When Kallus was able to regain himself, he found himself on his back, scrambling to get up. Skidding to the ground next to him was the prostrate form of Drebbo the crazy Lasat, an angry-looking burn still smoking in his chest.

An instant later, Kallus heard Fal's bo-rifle fire off several shots. He glanced toward their target and saw Thrawn, bo-rifle in hand, folded into long-range mode, reluctantly retreating under Fal's volley.

The Death-troopers were still there, too. They were already moving in to attack again before Kallus was back on his feet. It was all he could do to get his electro-staff up before their blows fell. Behind him, Drebbo was screaming in pain, curling in on himself feebly. Kallus knew that he couldn't move or the troopers' blades would come down on Drebbo instead. He was trapped there, on his knees, two Death-troopers pressing down on him. He was just resigning himself to not making it when another miracle occurred.

Out of nowhere, Zeb sailed back into the fray, almost high enough that he was going over the troopers' heads, unfolding his bo-rifle into close-quarters configuration and giving a roar as he dropped down on the troopers and sent them scattering. The energy of his bo-rifle flashed purple as he took the burden from Kallus.

Zeb was alive! The relief he felt at seeing the only person that he  _might_  be able to call a friend seemingly back from the dead got him back on his feet once more, making for the wounded Drebbo.

For a Lasat, Drebbo was small, but he was still a Lasat. Kallus bent under his weight as he hoisted him up over his shoulder with one hand, clumsily trying to fire off his blaster with the other. Somehow, Drebbo managed to give him some help, but it wasn't very much. Kallus could see the open hatch of the shuttle not far away, but it still seemed an impossibly long distance.

Zeb's retreating action gave Kallus the time he needed to haul Drebbo on to the shuttle, handing him off to a pair of Lasat who were waiting there. Zeb was already on his way to them by the time Kallus turned back around and began giving him some cover fire, adding his blaster fire to Fal's.

"Go! Take off!" Zeb shouted, bounding toward them and dodging blaster bolts.

"I got this! Go!" Fal agreed.

Kallus gave her a nod and then turned and charged forward, weaving between the Lasat who were all crowded inside the shuttle. One of them was already dragging the unconscious and bare-headed Death-trooper that Kallus had knocked out earlier toward the hatch and tossing him out.

Plopping into the pilot's seat, Kallus frantically began flipping switches and turning dials. The engines roared to life and he felt the shuttle lift off the ground. He waited as long as he dared to before closing the hatch, giving Zeb as much time as possible to get inside.

Now they had to get past the TIE-fighters. Praying that none of them were Interceptors or any of Thrawn's horrible Defenders, he brought the shuttle around in a large loop, evading fire. He poured all the power he could into the shields as the shuttle climbed into the sky, dodging past the TIEs and rocking with the report of blaster fire.

And then, the  _Chimaera_  came into view, fading into existence as Lasan's dusty atmosphere fell away. In all the insanity, Kallus had utterly forgotten the Star Destroyer. Now they were heading right for it.

 _"Star Destroyer_  Chimaera  _to shuttle two-six-six-one_ " a voice came over the comms then, startling Kallus out of his dread, " _you are cleared for docking, Admiral._ "

Kallus allowed himself a little chuckle of glee. Apparently, in all of the excitement on the ground, Thrawn had not taken time to alert the Destroyer. With a wolfish grin, Kallus kept the course toward the  _Chimaera_ , as if he was moving to dock with it. And then, at the very last second, just as the TIE-fighters were emerging from the atmosphere to give chase, he abruptly turned, skimming the shuttle along the belly of the ship, practically close enough to give it a shave. He kicked in the main engines and sped past into open space, plotting a hyperspace course -  _any_  hyperspace course - as they went. Outside, the stars elongated to streaks and then the swirling blue of hyperspace closed in around them.

Everything went quiet. Kallus forced his hands to loosen from the stick as he caught his breath.

"Someone find the med kit!" he heard Zeb shout from the cabin.

"Drebbo!" Fal exclaimed in kind.

Oh no. No, no, no, this wasn't happening. With urgency, Kallus pushed himself out of the pilot's seat and ran aft. Drebbo was laid out on the deck, his head on Fal's knees, whimpering in pain. Kallus skidded to a halt, falling to his knees next to the fallen Lasat.

The burn in his chest was blackened and angry and Drebbo was already beginning to pale as he gasped. Kallus looked at one of the other Lasat who simply gave him a sad shake of his head.

"Why did you do that?" Kallus asked Drebbo, his voice breaking. "Why  _would_  you do that? For me, of all people! Why?"

"The Ashla told Drebbo," he replied, "this one should live. The Ashla wanted this one to live."

"Not for my sake!" Kallus exclaimed. "After everything, it  _can't be_  for my sake! Not at the price of  _another_  Lasat!"

Hand shaking, Drebbo reached up and knocked Kallus lightly in the forehead. "The Bogan is desperate," he said, "weak and desperate in you now. It speaks its last, feeble lies to you. The Ashla did not tell Drebbo to save Kallus. The Ashla told me... to save my friend."

Kallus was struck dumb and had to search for his senses as well as his words. "How can a person like me be your friend?" he finally managed.

Drebbo gave a weak smile, almost seeming to laugh a little. "You are not the Kallus-Who-Was," he replied, "and I am not the Drebbo-Who-Was. You see now, yes?" He reached up again, placing a hand at the back of Kallus' head, pulling him closer. "The Fool is gone, at last," he whispered, "time now for the Child."

And then, Drebbo's eyes drifted shut and his hand went limp, sliding through Kallus' hair and off the back of his head to land on the deck with a final thud.

"Drebbo?" Kallus asked, his voice barely above a whisper. When there was no response, he collapsed back to land sitting on his own heels, kneeling on the deck, his hands limp in his lap.

All was stunned silence. Even if there had been anything said, Kallus would not have heard it for the buzzing noise that seemed to drown out his hearing. Hardly feeling any of the various aches and pains from the fight, Kallus silently stood up and returned to the cockpit, dropping into the pilot's seat and letting his head hang down, feeling soul-sick.

* * *

Yavin was once again hot and humid when they finally landed hours later. Kallus went with Zeb to make their report to Mon Mothma and Dodanna, but he allowed Zeb to do most of the talking. And once that was taken care of and Mon Mothma expressed interest in meeting the Lasat, Kallus allowed himself to fade into the background quietly.

Hours later, Kallus was once again sitting alone on one of the upper tiers of the ancient temple that was the Rebellion's main base, staring out at the setting sun. He wished it would burn the image of Drebbo's slack face from his mind, but he knew it never would. It felt to him as though everything had changed in that moment; as if Drebbo had taken something out of Kallus and dragged it into death along with him. But he couldn't tell what it was. He had no name for it.

In due time, Zeb appeared, sitting down on the wall nearby without saying a word. He simply sat back and waited. It was another hour and the stars had come out before Kallus finally found the energy to say anything.

"Why did he do it?"

Zeb gave a non-committal shrug. "Sounded to me like he answered that himself, before..." He trailed off, unwilling to say the words.

"I don't understand it," Kallus admitted, "I just... don't. What could he have possibly seen in me that was worth that?"

"What does anyone see in anyone else?"

A long silence stretched on between them.

"No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his brother," Kallus said at last, "not for millions. Not for glory. Not for fame. For one person, in the dark, where no one will ever know or see."

"That's not bad," Zeb replied, "where'd you hear that one?"

"Just something I read somewhere, once," Kallus said, absently, "he kept calling me the Fool. I get the impression you understood the reference."

"Yeah, it's just an old Lasat superstition," Zeb replied, "supposedly, everyone's got three people in 'em, right? The Fool, the Child, and the Warrior. The Fool denies his destiny. The Child sees things as they can be, not like they are. And the Warrior makes his own destiny. No one's any one of these, but they're all of them at different points in their life."

Kallus finally looked over at Zeb, not quite knowing how to respond to all of that.

"Yeah, I don't really get it, either," Zeb said with an uncomfortable shake of his head, "just a bunch of poodoo, you ask me."

"Superstitious nonsense, of course," Kallus was quick to agree as he looked away again.

A long silence settled in between them again. They both contemplated the distant horizon.

"So Fal's down with Mon Mothma right now," Zeb said when it finally seemed time to speak again, "they're getting in touch with Senator Organa to get the Lasat to Lira San. Sounds like all that will go pretty smooth. Fal and Mon Mothma seem to have really hit it off, though. Fal said she might even stick around for a while."

"Her help would be most welcome, I'm sure," Kallus commented, "and I suppose, she wants to make certain we get the bo-rifle back."

"Nah," Zeb countered with a casual wave, "she's content to leave that to you an' me."

"Then, that is our mission," Kallus stated.

"That's our mission," Zeb affirmed, "you know, no pressure or anything."

Kallus gave a small chuckle, allowing just a little bit of a smile in one corner of his mouth.

"Well, it's about time for grub," Zeb said, abruptly changing the topic and getting to his feet, "and I think Hera's space-mom Radar is in overdrive. She wants me to forgo the mess for dinner on the  _Ghost_. It's just gonna be waffles, nothing special but, uh... she says you're welcome to tag along. If you want. Just, you know, whenever you're ready." He paused, as if trying to find some way to end that sentence. "So, yeah, anyway," he finally concluded, turning to head for the entrance to the base.

"Zeb," Kallus called after him a moment later. He looked up to see Zeb had already turned back to look at him, "I think... I'd like to take you up on that."

Face breaking out into a smile, Zeb reached a hand down to help him to his feet. Wordlessly, Kallus took hold of it.


	7. Epilogue

Thrawn was never one to stew over defeats. Besides, as far as defeats go, this one wasn't so bad. Certainly the Lasat survivors had managed to elude him. But the other thing he wanted to know about? Well, his suspicions about the bo-rifle had been confirmed. Kallus had been far too desperate to get it back. And for all his attempts to get under the man's skin, Thrawn knew that Kallus was not a glory-hog or prone to instances of prideful revenge. He was far too pragmatic for that.

No, the bo-rifle was hiding some secret that the Rebels desperately did not want him to learn. They needed to get it back. They needed to stop him from learning it. And that meant that he needed to find it.

Standing in the middle of the ruin that had once been the royal palace of Lasan, Thrawn looked about, studying the various mosaics and frescoes that decorated the walls. They were broken, faded, and fragmented. But as the Stormtroopers brought lights into the dome and set them up, new details began to emerge. At first blush, it looked to be a simple origin myth. There was a great king, standing at the head of a group of soldiers. Each of them held aloft a glowing staff, opening a door in the air onto a path to a distant and abstract world, green and crowded with welcoming trees. The Lasat people were arrayed behind the king and the soldiers, in a long line as if to follow.

Thrawn considered the bo-rifle that he still had grasped in one hand. Thoughtfully, he unfolded it into its close-quarters configuration. The yellow energy that crackled at its ends looked remarkably like the glow on the staves in the mural. But the staves didn't quite look like the bo-rifle.

Looking it over again, he pulled on one of the armatures at one end. He found that it moved, though it was reluctant to do so as if it had not been turned that way for a very long time. The energy at the other end cut out. A second armature also looked like it moved, coming up next to the first, pointing along the length of the weapon's haft and forming something of a trident. The crackling yellow energy flared brightly.

Yes. This was it. This was the staff.

"As the ancients used it," Thrawn mused to himself.

He could feel it. Standing here amid the ancient history of the Lasat people, laid out before him, he was close to the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> And done. I hope you all enjoyed. And yes, as is implied, this is only part one. Part two is still in its planning stages, but I'm already super-excited to start working on it.
> 
> This is supposed to take place while Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine were working with the Mandalorians. I've always been annoyed that we didn't get to see any of Kallus adjusting to the Rebellion and addressing the issue of the bo-rifle seemed like the best way to go about things.
> 
> So, given that a map to Lira San is essentially embedded into every bo-rifle on the off-chance it would be needed some day, it kinda bugs me that they didn't address the fact that Kallus has to leave his behind when he escaped Thrawn. And Thrawn, of all villains, is clever enough to work it out in time. A weapon with that kind of cultural meaning would have piqued his curiosity and he would have looked into it.
> 
> I scoured everywhere on the web, but I couldn't find any information on what kind of a planet Lasan was, either before its fall or after. I had to make a guess at it. Since the design for the Lasat species is based on the original McQuarrie designs for Chewbacca, I figured that it had been some sort of an arboreal world, like the Wookies' home planet Kashyyk. The Lasats' prehensile toes and natural climbing ability would seem to back this up. But with the destruction, I imagine there was a lot of - if not complete - deforestation.
> 
> I didn't set out to make this part of the trilogy into a Freudian Trio trope, but it sort of ended up that way. Zeb turned out to be the ego, Kallus the super-ego, and Drebbo the id. It's really strange how that worked out. It sort of also corresponds to the roles the three are taking on, according to Lasat tradition, as well. In this case, Zeb is the warrior, Kallus is the fool, and Drebbo is the child. It's almost as if these are the Lasat names for the same idea, in a way. I might have to go rewatch that episode, now.
> 
> I don't lean toward Kalluzeb. I just can't see it happening. They are totally a BroTP, though.
> 
> Thanks for reading and please remember to tell me what you think! Laters!


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